


Lines of Grey

by Slaskia



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Crimes & Criminals, Gen, Punishment, Social Justice, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-26
Updated: 2013-10-16
Packaged: 2017-12-27 17:24:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 28,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/981620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slaskia/pseuds/Slaskia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are many grey areas in morality, each with their own line to cross or not. How far can one go in the name of justice? How many grey lines can one cross before they start to become the criminal they despise? Dakar, a vakar (turian vampire), comes across one of his own that has crossed one too many lines and it is up to Dakar to stop him before he kills an innocent again. However, will Dakar have to cross some lines himself in order to succeed?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_Apparitus, Digeris, 2173 CE_

 

The sky was clear, the wind calm and the temperature comfortable:  it was a good night for a hunt.  Dakar looked down from his perch on top of the building, watching the few turians that were still out and about at this time of night.  Most of them were honest turians, either going out for a time of fun, or on their way to work a night shift.  Other’s though, were decidedly not so _honest_.

No matter what the city, or the species, there was always a criminal element that preyed on the weak.  Turians were no exception: despite the vast freedoms their social structure provided, there were always some that wanted _more_.  It was those kinds that Dakar and his kin preferred to hunt. 

Dakar was a vakar, or _vampire_ in human terms, from what he read on the extra-net.  He had found it amusing how similar, yet different, his kind was from the human _myth_.  Yes, his kind needed to drink blood to survive and could live for hundred for years: Dakar himself was approaching three hundred, but that was largely where the similarities ended.  Sunlight didn’t harm them, for instance, but it _did_ prevent them from using any special powers.  Another thing was that becoming a vakar didn’t _cure_ any disabilities, chronic illnesses, or other physical flaws.  Turning a turian that was paralyzed into a vakar, just creates a paralyzed vakar that would be at a severe disadvantage when it came to the hunt. 

It was because of that fact, that there were rules in place for who gets turned or not, along with rules with how they behave and who is acceptable as a feeding target.  They only kill their targets, for instance, if the turian is an unremorseful criminal.  Many vakar, Dakar being one of them, also will not kill a pregnant turian, no matter how bad her crimes are:  the life growing within, is not responsible for the mother’s crimes.  Rules like this is what allowed them to co-exist with normal turians for many millennia…and hopefully for many more. 

“Dakar!” 

Dakar scowled and turned toward the speaker, whom was scrambling over the edge of the building.  It was Thyler, a vakar that was only about a decade old.  Still, a vakar that old should know better than to call any vakar by his given name and not their _codename_.  Then again, a first tier vakar, or _runovus_ , should never call a superior by anything _but_ their codename. 

“Where are we, _runovus_?” he asked with a hiss. 

Thyler stopped in his tracks and paled when he realized his error.  “Forgive me, _Kagnis_ ,” he blurted out, falling to his knees and exposing his throat in submission.  “In my panic…I forgot….” 

“Panic?”  Dakar echoed.  “You are not a vakar that is freshly turned, _runovus_.  You shouldn’t be _panicking_.” 

“I-I know…,” Thyler said.  “But…I believe I saw a vakar I didn’t recognize.  Did Elder Miroris authorize a visitation from another sect?” 

Dakar frowned at this, his face showing concern and a bit of anger.  There were many vakar sects on this planet, and more on other turian worlds.  While they all had their own traditions and taboos, they all shared the same basic rules.  One of those rules was that a vakar cannot intrude upon another sect’s territory without permission from that sect’s Elder.  “No, she did not,” Dakar replied.  “You are certain it was another vakar?” 

“I’m not completely sure, Kagnis…,” Thyler admitted, looking ashamed.  “That’s why I sought you out immediately.” 

“Show me what you saw then,” Dakar said as he approached him.  “And remember to focus.” 

“Yes, Kagnis,” Thyler said as he exposed his throat to him. 

Dakar pulled the collar of Thyler’s shirt down to give himself a clearer area before biting.  Thyler flinched as his fangs penetrated his skin, but otherwise stayed still like he should.  Within a second, Dakar started to see what Thyler did….

 

~~~

 

_Thyler walked down the street, glancing around himself every so often.  He didn’t need to feed tonight, but he liked to patrol anyway to help hone his skills.  As a young vakar, he still hadn’t perfected the ability to fully read an individual’s intent by just looking at them, like Dakar Kagnis.  He was only a tier one, after all, a vakar that hadn’t even discovered his special abilities yet.  Thyler was hoping it would be hoping it was something cool like Kagnis’ shadowwalking skill._

_Something caught his attention out of the corner of his eye.  Looking in that direction, he saw the tail end of someone’s coat disappearing into an alleyway across the street.  Suspicious, Thyler quickly crossed the street, wondering if it was a potential mugging or rape about to happen: he wasn’t hungry, but perhaps he could stop a crime from happening._

_As he started to look in, he felt a nagging feeling, similar to the presence of another vakar, but it felt foreign…and wrong.  Looking into the alleyway now, he saw a shape moving through the dim light, then it suddenly stopped and turned to look at him.  It was a tall, thin turian, with yellow eyes, red face tattoos and pale skin and carapace.  A male, he believed, but from the expression on his face he wasn’t happy that he was seen.  The man seemed to consider attacking him, but then apparently changed his mind and moved swiftly like the wind down the alley, without a sound...._

 

~~~

 

Dakar released Thyler and growled, not liking what he just saw. 

“Sir?” Thyler said, his tone questioning. 

“That was indeed another vakar you saw,” Dakar growled.  “At least a tier two: you were right to come to me first.” 

Thyler visibly shuddered, but seemed relieved that his suspicions were correct.  “What now, sir?” 

“You are to return to the Sanctuary and show Elder Miroris what you saw as you did for me,” Dakar said.  “I will try to find this man and discover why he is roaming our territory.  Inform the Elder of this as well.” 

“Yes, sir.”  Thyler bowed his head and took off, heading for their sects Sanctuary. 

_His memories were very detailed,_  Dakar thought has he shadowwalked down to ground level.  _Either he is getting better at focusing, or his powers are starting to surface._   In this case, Thyler’s power may be focused around vision, which could be very useful if trained properly.  He’ll have to keep an eye on him. 

Dakar moved swiftly toward the location Thyler saw this vakar:  he’ll be long gone by now, but he may have left a clue Thyler didn’t see.  _How that man moved…his powers seem to be based on sound and wind._ That knowledge is important, as if he did find him and things came to blows, he would know something of what to expect from his opponent. 

He’d rather avoid a fight though, not until he was certain what he was up against.  At least, it seemed this vakar wasn’t a rogue, not a full one anyway.  Vakar without a sect slowly go insane due to lack of interaction with their kin and such vakar will usually try to find another sect quickly.  Insane vakar usually end up being put down by others of their kind, for the safety of both themselves and normal turians. 

That this vakar didn’t even make an attempt to communicate with Thyler and even seemed to consider attacking him, bothered Dakar greatly.  It meant that he was still in a sect and here in Dakar’s territory illegally.  The question, was why. 

Could he be looking for new hunting grounds for his sect?  If so, and considering how the man reacted to Thyler, this could not bode well for them.  Once in a while, a sect is forced to split, or otherwise reduce their size due to changes in their territory, or the sect itself growing too large.  The displaced vakar would be in need of a new hunting ground and a new sanctuary.  Usually, another sect or two will absorb the displaced vakar, provided their territory could handle it.  Other times, especially if the sect in the area is small or weak, the roaming vakar may attempt to forcefully take over.  

The actions of the vakar Thyler saw, seemed to suggest a potential forced take over as Dakar’s sect was fairly small, with only eight members, due to a split a few years ago.  Of those, two, including Tyler, were tier ones.  Five were tier twos, of which Dakar was one.  Then there was their lone high tier vakar, Elder Meda Miroris.:  they had no tier threes or fours, Masters and Lords respectively, though Dakar was nearly experienced and old enough to qualify as a Master. 

This was why Dakar had to be careful.  As he read in Thyler’s blood, this vakar was at least a tier two: an equal and depending on their respective powers and energy levels, a fight between them could go either way.  Dakar knew his sect could not afford to lose any members if they were to have a chance to hold this territory. 

Dakar was at the alleyway now and he cautiously walked in, inhaling deeply to try to catch any lingering scent:  he could only smell Thyler.  This was worrisome, for if this vakar had the ability to mask, if not eliminate his scent, it will make tracking him down much harder.  Dakar wasn’t about to give up, however, for this intrusion could not be allowed to slide. 

He searched for an hour, taking routes he knew a vakar trying to avoid detection would be most likely to take, but found no sign of the intruder.  _I may have to give up for now,_  Dakar thought bitterly.  _I need to feed tonight and the night already half over._   He could feel the first hint of hunger growing in his belly and it would be too dangerous to continue the hunt for the intruder on an empty belly:  fights between two vakar of equal tier were often won or lost depending on how well-fed they were.  Besides, Elder Miroris no doubt was already using her own abilities to find information on this vakar by now, so Dakar stopped his current course and started heading back into the seedier area of their territory, where he was most likely to find a suitable target for feeding. 

Then he smelled blood. 

Dakar immediately headed for it, both due to his growing hunger and a nagging feeling.  The source was a now dead turian laying in an alleyway, the telltale bite marks of a vakar on his neck.  Dakar sniffed the air and couldn’t small any vakar in the area beside himself.  _It was him,_  he realized.  _The lack of scent identifies him just as an actual scent would._  

“If you are looking for left overs, I’m afraid I didn’t leave any.”  A voice said above him.  Dakar instinctively jumped back as a foreign vakar landed right in front of him, making no sound as he did so.  It was definitely the one he had been searching for, but now he was at a big disadvantage as the vakar before him had just fed.  

Still, he couldn’t afford to back down now.  “You are intruding on my sect’s territory,” Dakar snarled, baring his fangs.  “I highly suggest you explain yourself.” 

“Why should I?” the vakar said, a cocky look in his face.  “Because I am breaking some silly rule?” 

“You risk serious repercussions for not answering,” Dakar stated flatly. 

“You’re not my elder, so I do not have to answer,” the other vakar snarled.  “Besides, what’s the big deal?  I’m not taking any that your weakling sect would bother with anyway.” 

“’Would not bother with’?” Dakar echoed, ignoring the direct insult to his sect.  “You hunt and kill innocents?”  His last statement was venom laced. 

“Oh I assure you, the ones I hunt are hardly innocent.  This one…,” he kicked the body of the turian at their feet.  “Killed someone that broke into his home.” 

Dakar recoiled in shock, then snapped back with fire in his eyes.  “Killing in self-defense is not a crime!” 

The other’s eyes narrowed.  “The amount of available targets would increase at least two-fold if we did not make such exceptions.” 

“I suppose you target the police and military as well?”  Dakar sneered. 

“ _They_ are doing their job in that regard,” the vakar said flatly.  “However, normal citizens should not be taking the law into their own hands….” 

“You have no right to take the lives of law-abiding citizens that were only protecting themselves!” 

The other vakar frowned at him, clearly disappointed.  “It is clear I am not going to convince you of the _logic_ behind my actions.  Best to get rid of you before you tell your elder of my presence.” 

Before he could retort that it was too late to prevent that, the man was on him.  This vakar was fast, having grabbed and thrown him to the ground in blink of an eye.  Before he could start pounding his head into the ground, Dakar shadowwalked out from under him, reappearing a few feet behind him.  The moment’s confusion gave him a chance to get to his feet and properly prepare for the next attack. 

“A shadowwalker, eh?” the vakar said, impressed.  “Bet you can’t do that very often: I can tell you are getting hungry.” 

Dakar didn’t respond, not that he would have had a chance to anyway as the man was charging at him.  This time he was ready:  he sidestepped, grabbed an arm, and then twisted said arm to flip him onto his back.  “Your speed is both your greatest assent…and greatest enemy,” Dakar said calmly. 

The man hissed and sprang to his feet.  He didn’t charge him again, but this time engaged him in direct hand to hand combat.  Dakar had trouble keeping up with all the attacks, though he did manage to flip him a few more times.  Top of that, each time he countered with a flip, the faster the man seemed to get.  

Dakar was going to lose this fight if something didn’t change.  He did have yet to reveal his second ability, but in his current state, it may cost him too much energy.  However, if he didn’t use it, he may lose his life anyway.  The deciding factor came when his opponent got him pinned to the wall and was starting to choke the life out of him. 

“So…just out of respect,” the man said coyly.  “What’s your name, so I can remember who gave me a good fight despite being at the disadvantage….” 

At this, Dakar stared at him right in the eyes.  “It’s _Kagnis_ ,” he growled as he grabbed one of the man’s arms. 

The vakar’s eyes widened when the meaning of the name dawned on him and started to pull away.  Too late: Dakar’s eyes flashed as he ignited the man’s arm with shadowfire.  The vakar screeched and let go of him, starting to frantically pull off his clothing so the fire wouldn’t burn his flesh.  Dakar took this opportunity to pounce and try to sink his fangs into the rogue vakar’s neck.  Unfortunately the man was moving about too much to get a clear bite and he couldn’t physically restrain him due to a dislocated shoulder, so he opted for an upper arm instead.  He managed to get two mouthfuls of blood before the rogue got enough of his senses to knock him off.  Thankfully, he didn’t lose a fang or two in the process: those would have taken several days to grow back. 

_Krido Musven_ , Dakar thought as he watched the rogue vakar flee, whom was apparently no longer interested in killing him.  Just as well, as Dakar was in no conditional now to fight anymore:  his energy reserves were nearly spent from both the fight and starting the healing process of his injuries from said fight.  _I need to find a fed…quickly._

He also needed to get away from the scene, as he knew he would likely be blamed for the man’s death.  However, he found himself barely having the strength to stand.  If he had time, he would mediate to focus what energy he had left to essential functions, which was an essential skill for any vakar to learn.  Unfortunately, he did not have that time, as he could already hear emergency vehicles approaching:  he had to get out of there. 

Dakar took two steps, but then his legs gave out from under him.  _Dammit, he didn’t hit me that hard,_  he thought as he struggled to get up again.  _Why am I so messed up?_   It couldn’t be _just_ his energy levels, it had to be something else contributing to his current state.  There was no time to figure what that was though, as he could hear the emergence personnel pull up just outside the alley. 

_Dammit,_ he thought, realizing he had no choice but to use his last option.  Relaxing himself, he put himself into semi-hibernation:  this would conserve what energy he had left, while still being somewhat aware of his surroundings.  It would give him time to assess his injuries fully and figure out what exactly was wrong, not to mention he would be able to see if there was any additional information the blood he stole from Krido.  As a bonus, he’ll look like he was as much a victim as the dead man next to him. 

It was a risk though, as some of the procedures the medical staff will no doubt try to use on him to ‘save’ him may _kill_ him instead….


	2. Chapter 2

Nyla scowled when she looked at where she was going to be stationed tonight.  _The ER…AGAIN!?_  she thought with an audible growl.  _That’s the third time this week!_   It was ironic, considering the head of the hospital wanted her to avoid getting into OCD fits when possible: she liked things neat, orderly and on-time and the ER was pretty much the exact opposite of all of that, especially on busy nights.  

“From the look on your face, it looks like you’ll be working with me again, tonight,” a familiar voice said.  

She turned, looked at head nurse Hilasia with a frown, before nodding grimly.  “Bad enough I’m on graveyard shift,” Nyla grumbled.  “Among other things.” 

“Let me guess: your folks gave you the ‘we want grandkids’ speech again?” 

Nyla growled deeply at the memory.  “I have two older siblings:  why can’t they bug _them_ for once?” She _did_ want kids eventually, but she wanted to find the right man to marry first.  So far all she had come across were idiots that only thought with their cocks.  At least with the men in her age group:  maybe she needed to start looking in a higher age group to find the maturity level she wanted. 

“Maybe they are and you just don’t hear about it,” Hilasia offered. 

“Maybe.  They also could be harping on me because I made the mistake of telling them I was actually ‘looking’ for a husband.”  Last she checked, both her elder siblings at present were too focused on their military careers to settle down just as yet. 

“I’m sure things will work out in the end,” Hilasia said as they walked into the ER and started looking through the current patient charts.  “In regards to tonight, we may luck as so far it looks like it will be a quiet shift.  From what I can tell, all the current patients were easy cases and all stable and resting.” 

“ _Hey nuuurse!_ ” an obnoxious voice suddenly screamed.  “I took a dump and my ass needs cleaning!”  Nyla immediately recognized the voice as Rantus Gachan, an inmate at a local prison that had a thing for swallowing inedible objects.  He did it on purpose so he could get out of prison for at least a few hours so he didn’t have to worry about the other inmates. 

“Oh spirits…that prick is still here?”  Nyla groaned.  “He should have been sent back to prison this morning.” 

“Hmm….” Hilasia flipped to the man’s chart and said.  “Says here he managed to get ahold of and swallow; two rubber gloves, a handful of alcohol wipe packs and a used blood vial before they could wheel him out of the ER this morning to be released.” 

“Just how did he get ahold of those things when I restrained that bastard personally last night?” 

“He apparently managed to get all that stuff during the brief window they had him unrestrained so he could be put into a wheelchair.  He _is_ restrained again, according to the notes.” 

“Bah…then why isn’t he upstairs?  He’s hardly in critical condition.” 

“Because he kept disturbing the other patients.” 

“Ugh…maybe we should just gag him then.” 

“He’ll probably manage to swallow that too.” 

“Good point.  Well, I best to see to his _needs_.”  Nyla added with a growl as she stormed toward room two where Rantus resided.  “What a way to start the shift….” 

“Oh hell,” Rantus groaned when he saw her approach.  “Why did it have to be Nurse Nyla Traten…Queen of Rants?” 

“Well, if you didn’t keep swallowing things you’re not supposed to, you wouldn’t be here,” Nyla said flatly as she put on a pair of gloves. 

“Ah, but I _like_ it here,” Rantus retorted.  “Much warmer, food is _slightly_ better…and _much_ better _view_.” 

“Maybe…,” Nyla suddenly grabbed him by the hospital gown.  “If you hadn’t done what you did, you wouldn’t be in prison in the first place.  Ever think of _that_ asshole?  Then again, people like _you_ can’t help yourselves, can you?  Just gotta keep feeding that desire, never caring about the lives you are ruining in the process.  If’s people like _you_ that make me wish we had the death penalty for scumbags like you that can never be reformed into a _proper_ turian!” 

“Nyla!”  Hilasia warned.  “It’s not our place to judge, remember?  Just treat.” 

Nyla growled and let him go, Rantus having had a look of indifference the whole time, which only pissed her off even more.  Just as she was going to give him the roughest sponge bath she could give him, the alarm alerting the ER staff of an incoming emergency sounded.  Nyla gratefully stopped what she was doing to see what was inbound:  Rantus can sit in his own crap until this was over for all she cared.  “What do we have?”  she asked. 

“Two inbound:  one apparent DOA, another unconscious and unresponsive,” Hilasia said as she looked at the incoming information on the screen.  “Preliminary assessment on the unconscious patient: dislocated shoulder, internal bleeding and multiple areas of soft tissue damage.” 

“I’ll get the IVs ready then for blood:  any word on blood type?” 

“Strangely, they haven’t been able to determine that.” 

“Type O it is then.” 

Nyla quickly got the needed supplies ready and moments later, their living patient was wheeled in.  A tall male turian, grey skin with dark skin carapace, grey-gold face tattoos and looked to be in his twenties, maybe early thirties…and one heck of an overbite.  _Handsome man,_  she thought.  _Probably has a nasty personality though if he just got through getting into a scrap._ It was just her kind of luck:  all the good looking men she checked out turned out to be assholes.  Still, she had a job to do. 

“Any updates?”  she asked the paramedics:  Hilasia, she noticed, was checking on the DOA. 

“Well, he seems to be at least partly conscious:  he keeps pulling the IV out when we are not looking,” one of the paramedics replied, sounding annoyed. 

_Sounds like he’s delirious,_ Nyla thought as she directed them to put the patient in room three.  _But that’s understandable if he’s lost a lot of blood.  Could be due to head trauma as well._   Using her Omni-tool, she confirmed the injuries the paramedics reported while in route, but no head injuries.  This meant blood loss was his most serious problem.  Knowing time was critical, she quickly set up the blood IV and was about to put the needle into his arm when Hilasia rushed in. 

“Stop!”  Hilasia said, grabbing her arm. 

“What?”  Nyla said, confused.  “Hilasia, this man needs blood!” 

“Yes, he does, but not in the way you think.  Close the door.” 

“O-K….”  Nyla didn’t see why, but she did as the head nurse told her.  Then she became even more confused as Hilasia took the bag of blood and emptied it into a sterile bowl and held it under the man’s nose.  “Hilasia…what are you…?”  Then a switch flipped inside her head as her OCD kicked in and she went into rant mode.  “What are you thinking!?  That’s completely unsanitary and against spirits knows how many regulations….” 

The man suddenly animated, stopping her fledgling rant before it could take full flight.  She jumped back, shocked and disgusted as the man seized the offered bowl with his functioning hand and started to drink the blood directly out of it.  “Spirits…the hell…Wha…what is….,” she blabbered as she backed further away.  Nyla thought she was dreaming and having a rather surreal nightmare. 

“Thank you…,” the man said after he finished what was in the bowl, having licked every last drop of blood from it.  “I feel a little stronger now.”  He studied Hilasia for a moment and asked.  “Is that you, Hilasia?” 

“It is.  Dakar, if I remember right?” 

“Correct.”  After a moment he stated with a faint smirk.  “You’ve grown old.” 

“Fifty years will do that to you,” Hilasia said with a huff. 

“Wait…,” Nyla interjected.  “You meet this guy fifty years ago?  How is that possible?  He doesn’t look older than thirty!” 

“I age _very_ well,” Dakar said smoothly and then looked at Hilasia with a questioning look. 

“Dakar, this is Nyla Traten, one of our nurses:  she transferred here after her residency almost a year ago,” Hilasia said, patting her on the shoulder.  “Seeing I will be retiring soon, I figured this would be a good opportunity to let someone from the younger generation in on the secret.” 

At this Dakar frowned.  “We don’t trust just _anyone_ with the knowledge of our existence,” he said. 

“I don’t even know what is going on right now…,” Nyla admitted.  “I feel like I am in a dream.  I mean…it’s not really _normal_ to have a patient that was pretty much comatose suddenly set up and _drink_ a whole pint of blood!” 

“In your profession, I’m sure you will see just as strange, if not stranger things,” Dakar said with an amused chuckle.  “I’ve been around for nearly three hundred years and there are still things that surprise me from time to time.” 

Nyla gawked at this and then pinched herself in an attempt to wake herself up.  _Ouch_. Nope this was real.  “Three…hundred…,” she blabbered.  “What the heck are you?” 

“Surely you took some form of mythology course during your schooling years.” 

“I-I did but that was many ye….”  Nyla stopped short when she realized what she has to be looking at.  The fangs, the blood drinking and the long life…there was only one mythological creature that fit that.  “A vakar…,” she muttered, hardly believing the words coming out of her mouth.  “You’re a vakar.” 

“In the flesh,” Dakar said.  He looked down at his dislocated shoulder a moment before reaching with his good arm and popping it back into place.   “Ah…that’s better.  Didn’t have the strength to do this before,” he said as he moved the fixed arm around a bit. 

“What about the other injuries you have?”  Hilasia asked. 

Dakar seemed to fall into deep thought for a moment.  “The bleeding has stopped now, but there’s still a lot of tissue damage.  I’ll need more blood to heal the rest…much more to get myself back to a hundred percent.” 

“Um…I can get you another bag from storage…,” Nyla offered, still a bit overwhelmed by what she was hearing and seeing. 

“Spirits, no!” Dakar said.  “That crap tastes like cardboard.” 

“Uh…blood is blood…isn’t it?” 

“Would you eat leftovers that has been sitting in the fridge for days, if not _weeks_?  We like our meals ‘fresh from the carton’, so-to-speak…unremorseful criminals being the _preferred_ carton.” 

“Unfortunately, we can’t let you drink directly from one of our patients, or a member of the staff,” Hilasia said with a sigh.  “So it will have to be ‘cardboard’ or nothing.”  Dakar growled deeply at that. 

“Actually…,” Nyla said, an idea occurring to her, the shock of the whole situation finally passing and noticing an opportunity to get rid of an annoyance.  “You said vakar prefer to target unremorseful criminals, right?” 

“Yeah, and…?” Hilasia replied:  Dakar had tilted his head in interest. 

Nyla simply jerked a thumb in room two’s direction, where Rantus was.  “He’s a criminal of one of the worse kind and unremorseful.  If we let Dakar have him, we would not only have one persistent _annoyance_ out of our ER, but do society as a whole a favor.” 

“Even if he deserves it, we can’t allow a patient to _kill_ another patient!” 

“See this face?” Nyla said, pointing at herself.  “This is my  ‘ _I don’t give a fuck’_ face.” 

“Nyla….” 

“I’m all for it,” Dakar interjected.  “Though…hmm, what is he in here for?” 

“He has _pica_ ,” Hilasia explained.  “Basically, he swallows things he’s not supposed to just so he can get out of hard labor for at least a few hours.  He managed to swallow a used blood vial earlier, among other things, so now he’s staying for who knows how long he’s going to stay here for observation purposes to make sure what he ate doesn’t make him sick.” 

Dakar looked a bit concerned.  “How were the…inedibles…removed?” 

“Ah…let me check,” Hilasia said as she started looking at Rantus’ chart on her datapad. 

“Why does it matter?”  Nyla asked. 

“While we have very strong immune systems, we _can_ be affected by other things in someone’s blood,” Dakar explained.  “Things like alcohol and other drugs, mainly.” 

“Well you don’t have to worry about the lingering traces of anesthesia or pain killers, as they used the non-surgical means to remove the items.” 

“People like him tend not to like that, as it meant he’ll _normally_ be released earlier,” Nyla added.  “But since we offered him up to you, he’ll be released in a body bag.” 

“Nyla…I told you, we can’t….” 

“Don’t worry,” Dakar said suddenly.  “I won’t actually kill him, no matter how much likely he deserves it.” 

“ _What!?_  Why?”  Nyla screeched.  “If your kind’s _job_ is to take out scum like him, why are you going to pass up a free opportunity like this?” 

“It’s more for _your_ sake than his,” Dakar said flatly.  “It would be easier for you to write off sudden weakness due to his _habit_ than to explain a sudden _death_.” 

“He has a point, Nyla,” Hilasia said. 

“Ugh…yeah, I see that,” Nyla grumbled disappointed.  “Plus we need to figure out a way to get them in the same room without rising suspicion.  Wait…we could feign Dakar needing a blood transfusion…and that would explain away why Rantus ends up lightheaded after.” 

“Hmm, that may actually work…and it wouldn’t really be _lying_ either,” Hilasia said.  “Biggest roadblock is convincing the head emergency doctor.” 

“Isn’t he a big mythology geek?” Nyla asked.  “Just tell him we have a living breathing vakar in room three and he’ll probably go for it for the sake of ‘geekdum’.” 

“I’d rather avoid my existence from being spread around too much,” Dakar said with a shake of his head.  “Many fear what they don’t understand and that fear and misunderstanding has led to many needless vakar deaths.” 

“I’ll only use it as a last resort then,” Hilasia said.  “Nyla, best to attach all the monitoring equipment and such while I’m gone:  you know, to make it look legit.” 

“Right.”

 

\--

 

Dakar was thankful that his kind were not _undead_ like the human version of a vakar.  He was also thankful that, while Nyla had a fiery temper, she had a soft touch, as he felt very sore and tender due to the fight.  Thankfully, by now he figured out why he was so badly injured from such a short scuffle, at the very least. 

_He can use sound frequencies to weaken, or destroy,_ he thought.  _Much like certain sound frequencies can be used to shatter glass, he used it to weaken the structural integrity of my tissue._   In short, Krido didn’t _need_ to hit him hard, just hit him in general.  _I’ll have to remember that next time I encounter him._  

There was something else, something he couldn’t quite place.  He felt it when he first noticed Nyla, like he _knew_ her from somewhere, but he was certain he had never seen this particular turian before.  _Something in Krido’s blood?_ He pondered.  Dakar tried to focus, but what little blood he got from Krido wasn’t enough to give him any answers, not to mention Krido wasn’t likely to be thinking about his next target at that moment. 

“If you keep thinking like that I’ll have to hose you down,” Nyla said suddenly breaking his train of thought.  “I was starting to smell smoke.” 

“My apologies,” Dakar said with a chuckle.  “I was pondering about the circumstances that caused me to end up here…and how to avoid it in the future.” 

“Just how did something like you get in such a state,” Nyla asked. 

Dakar thought a moment before answering, trying to figure out how best to explain without telling her too much, as he still did not fully trust her.  “We are like a pack of varren:  we don’t take kindly to strange vakar wandering unto our territory, especially without permission,” he replied. 

“So you got into a fight with another vakar, then.” 

“Correct.” 

“I hope this is a ‘you should see the other guy’ type of story.” 

“I wish I knew for sure….” He wasn’t about to tell her about his shadowfire:  that would be too much information.  So he changed the topic.  “Nyla,” he said.  “Have you ever felt like you were being watched…stalked even?” 

Nyla stopped in her tracks, looking visibly disturbed. “Yes…yesterday morning when I was walking back home from work, I felt like someone was following me.  I looked back, but didn’t see anything out of the ordinary.  Still freaked me out though.  Why do you ask?” 

Dakar took that in, wondering if Krido had Nyla as his next victim, but he didn’t have enough information to be certain.  “Just…a feeling,” he responded, not wanting to put her on edge just yet for what may be no reason: there were plenty of non-vakar that could cause the same feeling, after all.  Dakar wanted to ask another question, but then Hilasia returned, followed by another, even older male turian: he had to be the head doctor of the emergency room. 

“Sorry, Dakar…had to use the trump card,” Hilasia said with a sigh.  “This is Doctor Zescus Vitanilan, head emergency doctor here for the night.” 

Dakar nodded respectfully, but mentally he was groaning as there was no guarantee this man won’t brag about him later on.  Same with Nyla, to be honest: of three in the room right now, he only trusted Hilasia.  

Then he looked at Zescus fully and noticed something odd about him.  Something that made him feel that he didn’t have to worry about Zescus at all….


	3. Chapter 3

Zescus had an odd look of familiarity in his eyes, like he knew more about Dakar’s kind than he let on to his underlings.  Seeing Dakar’s slightly baffled look, the man pulled down the collar of his shirt, to reveal not only the faint scars of vakar bites from long ago, but a very rare glyph tattooed on his neck. 

_A donor servant!_ Dakar thought, his eyes widening.  Some sects, particularly ones in territories where the population is low, employed turians that were willing to let vakar feed on them when their normal prey was hard to find.  As a necessity, these turians knew much more about vakar than average and many end up considering the vakar their second ‘family’.  In fact, some of those donor servants eventually became vakar themselves, from what he had heard. 

His sect didn’t need to employ such turians, so he wondered where this man came from.  Donor servants usually didn’t leave the territory of the sect they are ‘bounded’. That is, unless something happened to that sect.  Sometimes it is a takeover and naturally the ‘bond’ doesn’t transfer to the new residents.  Other times, the sect for some reason just leave the area abruptly, abandoning the servant.  Either way, the sudden separation can be painful for the servants left behind. 

“I am sorry,” Dakar said, extending his sympathies. 

“It was a very long time ago, honored vakar,” Zescus said.  “The pain has long since passed.” 

Dakar could see Hilasia and Nyla looking at them very confused.  Before he could say anything, the elderly doctor said.  “You two, prepare the transfusion equipment:  this man is in dire need of a blood transfusion.  Don’t just stand there gawking!  Time is critical!” 

“Y-yes doctor!”  the two nurses said in unison as they ran out. 

After they had left, the doctor turned back toward him.  “If it was possible,” Zescus said, taking Dakar’s hand and lowering his head in submission.  “I’d gladly give you some of my blood to aid in your recovery.” 

“The sentiment is appreciated,” Dakar said softly.  “But alas, I am not from the sect that gave you your glyph.” 

“I know…for my sect no longer exists.” 

“What happened?” 

“ _Hanators_.” Came the flat, bitter response. 

Dakar recoiled at this:  _hanators_ were turians that hunted the vakar they felt were a threat to sociality.  However, most of them _respected_ the fact that vakar largely policed themselves and only interfered in extreme cases.  Often, vakar and hanators worked together to bring down a rogue vakar in those cases.  “Why?” he asked, unable to understand. 

“Even after all these years, I have yet to find out,” the man said regretfully.  “My bound sect had protected my village for many generations, though we did notice their numbers had been diminishing over the years.  Perhaps, the hanators felt we were too dependent upon them for protection and did it to ‘help’ us…bastards.” 

“When I have other matters settled, I will ask my elder if she knows anything about it.” 

“It is no longer necessary, as I have long gotten past the need for retribution, but I do appreciate the thought.” 

Any further words that could have been said, had to be put on hold when the door opened.  First to come in was Hilasia, whom was bring the transfusion equipment.  Behind her was Nyla, wheeling in a rather confused looking male turian that was heavily restrained on a gurney.  “So, why are you putting me in here again?” the man was saying. 

“Well, Rantus,” Nyla was saying, a bit of a smirk on her face.  “For once in your pathetic life you are going to do something _good_.  You’re going to be donating blood to another patient.” 

Rantus looked in Dakar’s direction:  Dakar couldn’t help but give him a hungry look and licked his fangs.  This, naturally, unnerved the man.  “I don’t want to be in here with him!”  Rantus whined.  “Why not just draw out some of my blood instead?” 

“That wouldn’t be as _fun_.” 

“I hate you, Nurse Traten.” 

“The feeling is _mutual_.”  

The nurses set up the machine, hooking both ends of the tubs to one of their arms, though Dakar noticed Hilasia took care not to actually _insert_ the needle into his arm.  “Allow the machine to work for a bit before doing your thing,” she whispered in his ear.  “Will help cover our asses better if we actually have a machine to _clean_ afterward.” 

“Understood,” he whispered back.  “How long should I wait?” 

“Thirty seconds, no more than that,” Hilasia responded.  “And don’t worry about him making noise: Nyla is taking care of that as we speak.” 

Dakar looked over and watched as Nyla poured something into a rag before covering Rantus’ mouth and nose with it.  He struggled briefly before falling still.  “I would have preferred to use a mallet, but we have a strange lack of those around,” Nyla said, looking mildly satisfied.  “He’ll be out for about five minutes: will that will be long enough?” 

“Plenty,” Dakar said with a smile. 

“You two go tend to the other patients,” Zescus said.  “I’ll stay to ensure the _procedure_ goes smoothly.” 

“Yes, doctor,” Hilasia said. 

“Aww, but I want to watch this bastard get his due…,” Nyla whined. 

“No, Nyla,” Hilasia said she dragged her out of the room and shut the door. 

After they left the doctor turned on the machine, then detached the leads to the monitoring equipment on him. By the time he was finished, the central chamber of the machine was starting to fill with blood, so the doctor turned it off again.  “Have at it,” the man said. 

Dakar smiled and slipped out of bed.  He was still weak, but at least he was now strong enough to walk the couple of paces to Rantus’ bed.  Normally, he would go for the neck, but since they were trying to pass this off as a _normal_ procedure, he opted for the crook of the man’s arm instead, where the needle of the transfusion machine was attached.  He ripped that out and then hungrily sank his fangs into the man’s flesh. 

It felt good to get more blood into his stomach.  Already he could feel his other injuries starting to heal:  just a bit more and he’ll be strong enough to make it back to the sanctuary under his own power.  Then he realized in his eagerness he forgot to do one important thing before hand:  to mentally prepare himself for the _minushin_. 

_Minushin_ was the act of reading the memories in a person’s blood, a skill all vakar had the ability to do.  Some were better at it than others and Dakar was one of those: for them, it was essential to learn how to control what information came in.  The reason was that sometimes the memories can be too traumatic for them and can send them into a state of despair.  In Dakar’s case, Rantus’ memories were particularly triggering…. 

_He hurt kids…spirits…those poor kids.  Wait…My sister!?  He hurt my sister!?_ He thought, experiencing flashbacks from a time before he became a vakar.  _No, that’s impossible…that man is dead!  No!  Stop!  Leave her alone you monster!_  

His jaw clenched with rage, driving his fangs even deeper into the man’s arm.  Rantus’ memories were getting confused with his own and he felt the strong need to avenge his long lost sibling.  This man had to die!  Fategus shouldn’t be allowed to continue to live! 

Suddenly the flow of memories stopped as he was forcefully removed from the man’s arm.  He hissed and thrashed in anger, his mind screaming that he was being denied his revenge.  “Stop, honorable vakar!” the voice of Zescus said.  “Think!  Separate his memories from your own!” 

Dakar struggled a bit more as his logical mind started to take back over.  When he had full control again he went to his hands and knees, panting heavily.  “Spirits!” he finally said.  “I’m sorry…In my desperation, I forgot to prepare myself mentally for what I was going to see.  Dammit…I should have asked what he did first….” 

“It is over now, Dakar,” the doctor said.  “It will be alright:  the man is still alive, as we intended.” 

“No it’s _not_ alright,” Dakar insisted.  “I’m nearly three hundred years old:  I should _know_ better than to make such a stupid mistake!” 

“Greater age and experience does not mean you are immune to mistakes,” Zescus said calmly.  “I am certain your elder will confirm that for you.” 

Dakar sighed, realizing he was right.  Elder Miroris had admitted to making mistakes before, even at _her_ age.  “You’re right,” he said softly.  “Thank you…for stopping me.” 

The doctor nodded and directed him back into his bed, which he climbed into gratefully: he was physically stronger now, but the experience he just had left him exhausted _mentally_ ….

 

\--

 

Nyla was just finishing checking up on the last patient when Zescus stepped out of room three.  “Is it done?”  she asked. 

“It is,” he confirmed.  “Rantus will need a bandage on his right elbow and then put back into his original room.” 

Nyla nodded at this, though she still felt bitter that Rantus was allowed to live.  “How is Dakar?” she asked. 

“He should be fine:  we may be able to release him just before sunrise.  Best to keep an eye on him to ensure there are no complications.  Probably should see about having him transferred upstairs when it is certain he will recover fully.” 

“Understood, sir.” 

Once he had left, Nyla went into room three to see to Rantus and Dakar.  Rantus was awake now, but clearly incoherent.  Dakar was back in his bed, one arm draped over his eyes like he had the mother of all headaches.   

_He really did a number on his arm,_ Nyla thought when she Rantus’ arm.  _Looks almost like a varren chew toy._   With a shrug, she got some gauze and bandaged it up. 

“Ooh…where am I?” Rantus muttered.  “Am I in heaven?” 

“Someone like you are more likely to go to _hell_ ,” Nyla growled as she finished bandaging his arm and started to wheel him out of the room. 

“But I see white fluffy clouds….” 

“Those are the overhead hospital lights, moron.” 

Rantus babbled something else, but Nyla was beyond caring about what he said.  She put him back into his original room, double checked his restraints and left.  After taking a moment to calm herself down, she returned to Dakar’s room to check on him.  He was still in the same position, having not moved, or even seemed to have noticed what just went on.  She took a moment to admire him. 

Nyla still thought he was handsome, though she wondered if all vakar had some kind of _beauty_ glamour thing to help them get close to their targets.  Personality wise he was good too in her opinion, though being around for nearly three hundred years probably helped the mental maturity factor a lot:  she could imagine the immature ones didn’t last long.  Overall, she wouldn’t mind having him for herself. 

_What am I thinking?_ she thought with a sigh.  _Not only is he old enough to be my father several times over, but he’s not even the same…’species’._ Besides, how could she possibly explain to her parents about him?  _Hey, mom, dad, this is Dakar, an angel of justice that drinks the blood of criminals…yeah, that would go over ‘real’ well…._  

“How long are you going to stare at me?” Dakar said suddenly, making her jump. 

“Ah!  Sorry!” Nyla said, feeling embarrassed.  “How are you feeling?” she asked. 

“Physically, a lot better,” the vakar said.  “Mentally…exhausted.” 

“Didn’t think taking someone’s blood would be that mentally challenging,” Nyla commented as she started to put the leads of the monitoring equipment back on his person.  “By the way, not that I care, but did you have to try to chew his arm off?” 

“I didn’t intend to,” Dakar responded with a sigh.  “What the man did pissed me off and I had a lapse in self-control for a moment.  Spirits…I hate child rapists….” 

That made her stop in her tracks.  “How did you find that out?” she demanded. “It wasn’t in his charts for obvious reasons and he was unconscious while you did your thing.” 

At that, he lifted his arm and looked at her.  “You probably wouldn’t believe me,” he said. 

“Considering I have a damn living _mythological_ being laying in front of me right now?” she said, folding her arms. “Try me.” 

Dakar sighed heavily as he covered his eyes again.  “My kind have the ability to ‘read’ a person’s memories through their blood, so you could say I ‘saw’ what he did while I was feeding.  Bits and pieces anyway, considering he was unconscious, but enough to set me off.” 

_A mind reader, in sense,_ she thought, making a mental note not to let him drink her blood: she rather keep her unspoken thoughts and memories to herself.  “Well, pedo’s tend to set any reasonable person off,” Nyla muttered.  “Though, it sounds to me like your hatred is more…personal.” 

Dakar sat up and seemed to reflect for a moment:  Nyla could see the pain and sorrow in his eyes.  “It is,” he said softly.  “I lost my sister to a monster like him, a very long time ago.” 

“Oh…I’m…I’m sorry,” Nyla said.  “Was she a…?” 

“No, that happened some time before I was turned into a vakar.” 

“’Turned’?” 

“All vakar, to my knowledge, were once normal turians at some point in their lives,” Dakar explained, looking grateful for the change of subject.  “Many of us were chosen to become vakar due to our sense of justice and wanting to prevent further harm to innocents when the justice system cannot prevent it itself for whatever reason.” 

“Considering your…uh…memory reading abilities:  I’m surprised your kind are not more heavily involved in the justice system directly.” 

“We used to be, as far as I know,” Dakar admitted.  “Why it stopped being so…I do not know.  Likely due to fear and misunderstanding.  A spike in rogue vakar likely sealed the deal.” 

Nyla didn’t need to be told what he meant by ‘rogue’.  “Not surprising that a few bad fruits ruin the deal for you guys,” she said.  “Was it a rogue vakar that you got into a tangle with?” 

“Yes,” Dakar confirmed.  “One that seems to prefer turians that have killed in self-defense, though he may target other kinds of innocent ‘criminals’ as well.”   

Nyla twitched involuntarily at the statement.  For the first time, she felt worried:  could this rogue vakar target her for what she did two years ago?  “Is there like a ‘statute of limitation’ or something on your targets?”  she found herself asking. 

“Excuse me?” 

“I mean, does the length of time it has been since the crime have a factor in whether or not you kill that person?” 

“It really depends,” Dakar replied.  “Depends on the crime and the vakar him or herself.  Intent and remorse also play heavily into it.” 

“And this rogue vakar…?” 

“The general impression I get is that he doesn’t give a damn how long it’s been.” 

“I…I see,” Nyla said, feeling a bit nervous now and before she could stop herself, she found herself asking:  “Dakar…I have to be honest here…but…is it possible he may come after me?”

 

\--

 

Dakar was a bit surprised at the question, at least the directness of it.  He had been suspecting that she was on Krido’s hit list, maybe even his next target, but he had nothing but the faint mention of her name in his blood.  “I cannot say for certain without more information,” he said truthfully.  “I’d have to know what you did that makes you think he would target you.  What did you do?” 

Nyla didn’t answer, looking very reluctant to speak of whatever it was she did.  He could tell, though, that she wouldn’t be a typical feeding target from the remorse in her eyes:  whatever it was she did, she regretted it, which was a key factor in whether or not a vakar kills their target or not.  “Nyla,” he said softly.  “I cannot help you if I do not know what he may be targeting you for.” 

“How could you help me?”  she said, her voice shaking.  “For all I know _you_ may kill me instead….” 

“I told you before:  we only kill _unremorseful_ criminals.  And I can tell without drinking a drop of your blood that you regret what you did deeply.” 

She relaxed a little bit, but he could tell she was still on edge.  “ _Normal_ vakar wouldn’t, you mean,” she corrected him.  “The one you fought with though….” 

Dakar sighed, really not wanting to tell her as she was already upset as is, so he changed the subject.  “What time am I to be released from here?” he asked. 

Nyla actually seemed annoyed that he changed the subject.  “The doctor said we should be able to release you before sunrise.  Why?” 

“When does your shift end?” 

This question seemed to surprise her.  “Just after sunrise…,” she said.  “Again, why?” 

Dakar thought a moment, cursing the lack of information on Krido’s condition.  It was times like this he wished he knew how to contact Elder Miroris from a distance:  the elder’s _mirror sight_ power would be very useful here.  It didn’t help that the Elder wasn’t big on using the latest, or even not so latest, forms of communication.  _I swear, if I ever lead a sect of my own, **cellphones** will be on the top of my list of requirements, especially for situations like this, _ he thought before turning his attention to the more _immediate_ concern.  “You _should_ be safe enough on the way home,” he said finally.  “But when you leave to come to work the following night….” 

“Why is that?” Nyla asked, sounding tense.  “You turn into toads or something?” 

Dakar had to chuckle at that.  “Sunlight, while it doesn’t harm us _directly_ , it does…nullify some of our skills:  we are basically normal turians during the day.” 

“But….”  Nyla now had her arms folded. 

“But we can still hunt and feed during the day, if we are desperate enough, or otherwise have no other choice,” Dakar said, which caused Nyla to become edgy again. 

“So this guy could come after me while I walk home from work…,” she said, rubbing her arms.  “Is there anything I can do to stop him?” 

“While your chances of getting away would be better during the day, especially if you were armed with a weapon of some sort, there is no guarantee, especially if he is desperate.”  Dakar paused a moment in thought.  He had an idea, but it would require not going back to the Sanctuary immediately after he would be released: something he knew would drive his elder to worry.  However, to keep Krido from taking this woman’s life, what choice did he have?  “I have an idea, but you’re not going to like it.” 

“Wh-what would that be?” Nyla said, looking like she was on the verge of panic.  “Let you escort me home?” 

“Yes, actually,” Dakar said.  “But more than that:  I stay with you and escort you back to work the next night.” 

“What!?”  Nyla screeched, then suddenly covered her mouth and blushed when she realized her outburst would draw unneeded attention to their conversation.  “I-I mean it’s not like I wouldn’t appreciate the protection…but what will people think when I bring ‘work’ home?  Spirits…my home isn’t prepped for a visitor either!  Gods…I don’t have a guest room ready….” 

“The couch will be fine: I’ve slept on far worse in my time,” Dakar reassured her.  “ _And_ you won’t need to worry about me eating all your food:  while we can eat _normal_ food, but it does nothing for us anymore…aside from giving us constipation, usually.” 

“Not sure I needed to know that…detail,” Nyla said making a face. 

Dakar had to laugh at that.


	4. Chapter 4

They moved him to a proper hospital room about an hour later once they determined that he was no longer in any danger.  In a way, Dakar wished they hadn’t, as the regular nursing staff most likely wouldn’t know about his kind.  At least with Hilasia, Zescus and even Nyla, he could talk freely to them: here not so much. 

_I suppose one plus to this arrangement is that I have my own room with its own private bath_ , Dakar thought as he lay in the bed.  _Not much of a plus in my opinion though._ With it still being night, not much activity was going on in general here, which meant not many came in to check on him, since they would assume he would be sleeping.  He try to do just that, sleep, but that turned out to be a fruitless endeavor and nothing good was on TV either.  So all he could do was think, which quickly got boring and repetitive.  All he had to look forward to was release, when he then had to do more waiting for Nyla to leave work so he could ensure Krido didn’t go for her then. 

“I can tell you have a lot on your mind, Dakar.” 

Dakar nearly jumped out of his carapace at the voice.  He looked up to see Elder Meda Miroris standing over him.  She was tall and hauntingly beautiful, her attire in the style of flowing robes of a bygone era, with dark blue eyes showing the wisdom of over a millennia of life.  “Elder Miroris,” Dakar said once he had shoved his heart back into his chest where it belonged.  “I didn’t think the bathroom mirror would be big enough.” 

“It was…a tight fit,” Meda admitted.  Along with _mirror sight_ : the ability to see current happening through any reflective surface, she could also _mirror walk_.  That ability, naturally, was more restrictive, as not only did the mirror itself have to be big enough, but also had had to have a clear, undistorted reflection.  “I would have come sooner, but the location you were in before would have had too many witnesses to my coming.” 

“Yeah, the ER not really suitable for pulling a sudden appearing act, though the looks on their faces probably would have been worth it….” 

Meda smirked at that, but her face quickly turned serious.  “Thyler showed me what he found, as he did with you.  You were wise to have him return to the Sanctuary to inform me of the intrusion, but not so wise to pursue the intruder yourself on your hunting day:  you’re lucky to have survived.” 

Dakar took the scolding graciously, knowing she was right: it had been foolish to pursue Krido at that time.  “So you saw my fight with him?” he asked. 

“No, only the aftermath, and even then not much due to poor surfaces to see through,” she said with a sigh.  “I would like to _know_ what I missed.” 

“Of course, Elder,” Dakar said, holding out his arm.  Thankfully, she seemed to understand why he didn’t want her to take the blood from his neck, as she sank her fangs into the crook of his elbow.  Unlike Thyler, he didn’t flinch and didn’t need to be reminded to focus on what ended to be shown.  She didn’t need to take much to get what she needed. 

“You have been indeed, very lucky, this night,” she said once she took a moment to process the information.  “Not only were you sent to a hospital that had staff whom had knowledge of our kind, but they had a patient they didn’t mind you feeding from.  Personally, I think you were way too considerate in that man’s regard: I would have still killed him.” 

“Rantus?  Yeah…though I nearly did.” 

“You need to be more careful, Dakar,” Meda said in a more worried tone this time.  “The foolish mistakes you made could have cost you not only your life, but the sect’s second eldest member.  You know all too well that that we cannot afford to lose anyone right now.” 

Dakar simply nodded in acknowledgement.  Due to the sect split a few years ago, he was indeed, the second oldest vakar in the sect.  This split wasn’t due to size or territory changes, but due to a disagreement between _then_ Lord Etanus Mizarcus and Elder Miroris.  Mizarcus wanted to _modernize_ the sect to better mesh with current turian society, but Miroris flatly refused due to fears that very technology would bring about their doom.   

She ended up being partly right, as soon after the split, Mizarcus’ sect ended up being raided by _hastatim_ when the local government intercepted their communications:  they mistook them for a local terrorist cell.  From what he heard, several members of that sect were slain before Mizarcus was able to prove what they really were.  After that, Dakar hadn’t heard anything about them, at least not from his own sources:  Miroris likely knew, but chose not to say anything for whatever reason. 

“On to the situation at hand…,” Meda continued, drawing his attention back to the present.  “Your plan to help protect Nyla is a good one, but my advice is to find some way to bite her.” 

Dakra raised a ridge at this.  “Why?  I shouldn’t need to feed until after my next fight with Krido at the earliest,” he asked. 

“One: from what I _saw_ she is going to be very reluctant to tell you why Krido may be after her, so the only way to get that information may be through _minushin_ ,”  Meda said flatly.  “Second:  you know about donor servants and the glyphs that protect them from being bitten by vakar not from the sect they are bound to, yes?”  Dakar found himself nodding anyway despite knowing she already knew he knew this.  “Biting her will have a similar, if temporary, effect.  It will buy you both much needed time should Krido catch you off guard again.” 

He nodded again, this time with understanding, as he did not know this.  Rather embarrassing that he didn’t, to be honest, considering how long he had been a vakar.  Then again, it’s rare for a sect to have to deal with an intruding vakar like this to begin with.  “I will do my best to follow your advice, Elder,” Dakar said.  “Anything else I should know?” 

“Just this, Dakar:  Krido seems to be very one track minded,” she said.  “Despite nearly losing an arm to your shadowfire, he, thus far, has refused to feed on another to help the regeneration process.” 

“Which means he will be desperate…and I should prepare myself for a nasty fight.” 

“Indeed, which means that despite you having the advantage _strength_ wise this time, his desperation will surely be an effective counter to it.”  Meda suddenly glanced at the door.  “I should go now, before a nurse comes in wondering about whom you are talking to after visitor hours.  Good luck with the hunt, Dakar…and be careful.” 

“I will, Elder.  Thank you.” 

He watched as Meda slipped back into the bathroom and just in time.  Just then, the door to his room opened and a nurse poked his head in.  “Sir, everything alright in here?” he said. 

“Everything is fine, nurse,” Dakar said.  “Just a bit of trouble sleeping, that’s all.” 

“Oh, did you want me to get a sleep aid for you?” 

Dakar was already shaking his head.  “No, I’m just not used to sleeping at night:  night owl type, you see.” 

“Ah, I see.  Well, let us know if you need anything, alright?” 

“I will.” 

As the nurse closed the door once more, Dakar folded his arms behind his head and sighed.  The information on Krido’s condition Meda just gave him was interesting.  It seemed the bastard did have enough honor and self-control not to jump on the first turian that walked by while in his condition.  Still, the Elder was right on one thing:  with Krido injured as he is, he will most definitely be going for Nyla at first opportunity and it will be a hard fight to keep him from her….

 

\--

 

_A few hours later…._

 

At last her shift was ending, though for once, Nyla wasn’t sure she wanted to _leave_. 

Ever since that conversation with that vakar, she’d been feeling uneasy and jumpy.  Uneasy because she found out this shift that some myths were real and that one of those myths may be stalking her.  Sure, Dakar said he would escort her, protect her, but how did she know he wasn’t the rogue one and was just lying through his mandibles? 

_If they were all normal turians once, they should have the same aversion to lying as us,_ the logical part of Nyla’s mind told her.  He also had every opportunity to attack her during the time she was alone in the room with him, but he didn’t.  _But that could be because he didn’t have a surefire way to get out without getting caught,_ a paranoid part of her countered.  _Letting him walk you home…then come ‘into’ your home is a surefire way to ensure no one knows what happened until you don’t show up for your next shift!_  

Nyla shook her head as she put her nurse jacket away, for it was pointless to have doubts about it now.  After all, she agreed to Dakar’s idea and as an honest turian she had to follow through with it.  _Maybe I should borrow Hilasia’s taser in case he tries to pull anything._  

“Hey, Nyla.” 

Nyla nearly jumped out of her skin as she whirled around and nearly punched Hilasia in the face.  The older turian was rather surprised by the response.  “Jeez, Hilasia!” she said as relaxed her stance.  “Don’t sneak up on me like that!” 

“You’ve been tense…well…tens _er_ ever sense you had that chat with Dakar a few hours ago.  You alright?” 

Nyla sighed and rubbed her head, not sure how to explain it, or if she even _should_.  “I-I should be…just that some of things Dakar talked about it hit a bit…close to home.” 

“Need someone to talk about it?” 

“Maybe another time, Hilasia,” Nyla said, shaking her head.  “I just want to get home and go to bed.” 

“Fair enough.  Just so you know, you’ll be working the ER again tonight:  I took a peek at the schedule.” 

“Ugh…at least I know ahead of time this time.”  _Provided I make it through the day...,_ she thought bitterly.  “I’ll see you tonight, Hilasia.” 

“See you, Nyla, take care.” 

Nyla stepped outside, partly expecting to be jumped the moment she was fully exposed.  Someone did, indeed, approach her and at first she feared it was the rogue Dakar spoke of, especially once she saw a hint of fangs.  Then she recognized the grey-gold face markings and grey eyes.  “Dakar?” she asked. 

“Correct,” Dakar said with a smile.  “Shall we get going?  The sooner you get home, the safer you’ll be.”   

Nyla had to agree with that.  She wanted to ask him about how he felt being out in sunlight, but with so many other turians starting to go about their daily routines, it felt unwise to speak of _vakar_ related subjects within public earshot.  Yet, she felt the need to talk about _something_ , so she focused on his attire.  “I’m surprised your overcoat wasn’t ripped to shreds while you were bed bound,” she commented. 

“My trenchcoat?  Why do you say that?”  Dakar said, looking at her. 

“It’s _human_.” 

“So?” 

“Please…I was only _four_ when it happened, but even I know about the _Relay 314_ incident!” 

“Oh yes, that,” Dakar said, sounding unconcerned.  “I did get some nasty glares after putting it on while being checked out.  To be perfectly honest though, _we_ jumped the guns in that incident.” 

Nyla stopped in her tracks and glared at him, realizing that the ‘we’ part of his comment was directed at turians as a whole.  “How can you say that!” she snapped.  “The humans were about to blindly open a relay with no knows what was on the other side!  Their recklessness could have caused another Rachni War!” 

Dakar was just tilting his head at her, a sad, yet knowing look in his eyes.  Then he leaned forward and whispered.  “If there is one thing we _vakar_ learn during our long lives, it is how to see the _big picture_.” 

“What do you mean?”  Nyla asked as she found herself being coaxed forward with some eagerness.  Remembering that she was in greater danger the longer she stayed outside, she continued walking. 

“While willful interactions with other Citadel species is very limited, we do read up and study about them.  That includes their history, _their_ side of the story.  In the human’s case, we turians as a whole failed to consider their side of the story in the heat of the moment.  There is a reason why the humans refer to the _Relay 314_ incident as the _First Contact War_ , for instance.” 

“I’m still not getting it,” Nyla grumbled. 

Dakar sighed in apparent frustration.  “Open your mind and _think_ , Nyla,” he persisted.  “What does ‘first contact’ typically mean?” 

Nyla growled faintly at the implication she was being ignorant.  “Basically, it means the first time someone encountered something,” she replied.  “But what does that….”  Her mouth snapped shut when the full meaning in context of the conversation hit her.  “Spirits!  You’re not trying to suggestion that turians were the first _ever_ sentient species the humans have encountered….” 

“That I am,” Dakar said.  “Well, _confirmed_ contact:  they been having supposed _visits_ and even _abductions_ by ‘aliens’ for _centuries_ beforehand, but as they expanded into their own home system and beyond, all they found was traces of a species long since extinct.  The more relays they activated, the less reason they had to believe they would _ever_ come in contact with another _living_ sentient species.” 

“Until we literally blew them away when we found them…,” Nyla muttered.  “Spirits…why didn’t we think of that back then?  Why did we assume they were acting about of arrogance rather than ignorance?  Did we even _try_ to communicate with them before opening fire?” 

“Do not let yourself fall to despair over an event you were too young to participate in yourself,” Dakar warned.  “The humans have a saying:  hindsight is _always_ 20/20.  We will always see the past with a clearer mind than we did at that time.  That said, what is done is done.  Learn from the past, acknowledge that it happened, but also never forget it:  the past has a habit of repeating itself if you do.” 

“Heh…you remind me of my grandfather,” Nyla said softly.  “ _And_ you look only a third of his age.” 

Dakar just chuckled at that.

 

\--

 

The rest of the trip was made in silence, to which Dakar was grateful as it enabled him to focus more on their surroundings.  With it being daylight now, Krido wouldn’t be able to use his abilities to easily sneak up on them, if he still had the energy to even use them in the first place.  However, Dakar’s own abilities were suppressed as well, which evened the field a bit.  So constant vigilance was still needed to ensure Krido didn’t snatch Nyla in a moment of inattention.  Fortunately, he saw no sign of Krido by the time they reached Nyla’s home, which was a modest apartment. 

“Make yourself at home, I guess,” Nyla said as she opened the door and went in. 

Dakar followed her in and was impressed by how orderly and _clean_ everything looked, but it did bother him a bit that there wasn’t much in the way of décor.  What furniture there was, he noticed, was either a dark earthen color or made of easy to clean materials like plastic and glass.  There were no pictures on the walls, no knickknacks or other show pieces on the tables or mantle, not even a vase of flowers, real or fake.  “For someone with such an _interesting_ personality, I’m surprised you don’t have more in the way of décor,” he commented as he took off his trenchcoat and hung it on the coat rack. 

“I keep to the essentials only,” Nyla replied as he watched her suddenly walk over to the coat rack and adjusted how his trenchcoat hung off it slightly.  “Anything more would just mean more things to keep in order and dust.  I hate chaos…I hate not being in _control_.” 

_Great, she has OCD,_ he thought as he walked over to the couch and sat down.  “And yet…you choose to work in a hospital and the ER of all places…where chaos likes to show up often.” 

“I have my reasons for choosing such a profession,” Nyla said flatly.  “And me getting put into the ER is the head doctor’s idea of a joke I think.  Or a test to see how well I can keep myself under control….”  The pupils of her eyes widened suddenly as she snapped.  “Get your damn feet off the coffee table!  It’s not a footstool!” 

“Eep!  Sorry!” Dakar said as he quickly pulled said feet off the table.  He watched as Nyla disappeared into the kitchen for a moment and came back with some cleaner and a rag.  She then vigorously washed the table where his feet had been, muttering something about how someone as old as him show know basic manners. 

_Spirits and the elder wants me to bite her?_ he thought.  Sure, she seemed curious enough about vakar, but with her OCD, getting her to let him bite her may just be impossible.  Of course, that depended on whether or not her OCD extended to her _physical_ appearance and not the environment around her. 

“Now,” Nyla said after she finished cleaning the coffee table.  “I’m going fix me a bite to eat.  I’d ask what you want, but you already told me _normal_ food doesn’t do jack for you…yet…I’d feel like a bad host if I didn’t give you _something_.” 

“Unfortunately, I do not require anything at this time, Nyla,” Dakar replied with a shrug. 

“Not even a glass of water?” 

Dakar shook his head.  “We get everything we need from the blood we drink, including hydration.” 

“Alright, fine,” Nyla muttered.  “If you change your mind though, let me know.” 

“I will.” 

After Nyla disappeared into the kitchen, Dakar laid down on the couch and sighed.  He really wanted to go to sleep, since it was now his _normal_ time for it, but he wanted to figure out a way to bite Nyla before he fell asleep.  If he fell asleep now, he won’t wake up again until sunset and then it may be too late, and yet if he forced himself to stay awake to try to figure it out, he may not get enough sleep and wind up at a disadvantage again when Krido showed up.   

_Damned if I do, damned if I don’t,_ he thought bitterly.  Dakar _could_ try to seduce her, as it was obvious from before that she liked how he looked, but he was never of fan of ‘sneaking bites’ during the act of sex.  No, in cases like this where the bit _ee_ was atypical, he much prefer him or her to know what he was going to do beforehand and thus be willing.  _Maybe I should just tell her what the bite would do,_ he thought with a sigh.  _But I’ve told her so much…too much…about us already._ Then he started to smell what Nyla was cooking.  _Ah, hell…of all things…why’d it have to be **iagus**?_   

_Iagus_ was a type of steak typically cooked in a sweet sauce, usually expensive as well.  He and his sister had loved it and ate it whenever they could, which was rare considering they were orphans: the orphanage they were at only rarely offered it.  However, _iagus_ was also the last thing they had ate together before…. 

_I need to get away from the smell,_ Dakar thought getting up from the cough.  He couldn’t afford to relive the memories of that day again, not so soon.  Looking around, he spied the bathroom and the shower within.  _That should work,_ he thought as he headed for it.  _I could use a shower anyway to get all the hospital stink off me._  

He quickly stripped and stepped into the stall, noting the smell of iagus had yet to fully penetrate this room.  Quickly, he got the water going, hoping to drown out what smell there was.  However it was too late, for memories of a time long past had already started to flood his mind….


	5. Chapter 5

It was good iagus, for a pre-cooked version anyway.  Normally Nyla would have savored it, but she had too many things on her mind to really enjoy it.  She couldn’t get Dakar out of her mind, for instance, though that said vakar was currently residing in her own living room was a big factor in that.  The loaming threat that was the rogue vakar he warned her about was there was well. 

At the very least, it seems Dakar was telling the truth about his intentions:  he had plenty of opportunity to strike, but has not.  _Then again, he did ‘eat’ fairly recently,_ she thought, doubt creeping into her mind as she got up to put her plate into the sink.  _He might not be hungry enough to take me yet._   The real test would come when she went to bed, which was when she would be the most vulnerable.   _Maybe I should set my alarm a bit earlier so it’s still daylight when I…_. 

“Thysa!” 

The shout nearly made her drop her plate.  That sounded like Dakar, but who was this ‘Thysa’ he was calling out to?  With a mix of curiosity and dread, she put the plate down and headed into the living room.  What she saw next was a bit of a shock. 

Dakar was on his hands and knees, half way out of the bathroom, completely nude and dripping wet.  He was also trembling and she could hear him sobbing faintly.  “Dakar?” she called out cautiously, not sure of his mental state. 

The vakar’s head shot up to look at her, a mix of alarm, grief and confusion on his face.  Then, embarrassment, as he remembered where he was _and_ realized his situation:  he quickly covered himself with a towel to preserve what dignity he had left.  “Spirits, I’m sorry…I…,” he started to say, then suddenly covered his nose.  “Ugh…no…the smell….” 

“Smell…what are you…?  Are you insulting my _cooking_?” Nyla snapped. 

“N-no…please…I-I’ll explain just…, give me a moment.”  Hand still affixed over his nose, Nyla watched as he looked around and started for a room that had its door currently closed:  her _bedroom_. 

“Wa-wait!  You can’t go in there!”  Nyla said as she went after him.  “That’s my bedroom!”  _Spirits, this must be some ploy of his!  Why the hell did I let him in!?_ she thought as she followed the vakar into the room. 

She expected him to turn on her at that moment, but instead he flopped onto her bed and buried his head under her pillows:  she could hear him taking deep breaths.  “Close the door…please….,” she heard him say, albeit a bit muffled. 

Confused and frustrated, her OCD trying to kick in on top of that, Nyla did as he asked.  “What in the name of the spirits of Palaven is wrong with you?”  she demanded.  “First you insult my cooking, now, not only have you dripped water all over my carpet but now you are getting _my_ bed wet!  And who the hell is Thysa!?” 

At that, Dakar pulled his head out from under the pillows and looked at her with sad, hurt eyes.  “She was my sister…,” he said softly.  “The one I told you about before.” 

Nyla stiffened in shock and shame.  She put two and two together and realized that he must have been suffering from a memory flashback.  “The smell of the iagus…?”she asked.  

“It was the last thing we eat together before I lost her,” he explained.  “So…instead of bringing back pleasant memories…it brings back….”  He couldn’t say anymore, the pain of the loss evident on his face as he crushed his eyes closed. 

“I…I’m sorry I…I didn’t know.” 

“There was no way you could have known,” Dakar said with a sigh, as he pulled himself up into a seated position, having regained some control over his emotions.  “Even after over three hundred years…the memory is still raw and painful.  Doesn’t help that we were twins….” 

Nyla remembered reading about how twins can be very close, close to the point of even knowing what’s happening to one another.  “I can’t imagine what it must have felt like,” she said softly, sitting down next to him.  “To have her disappear…only to find out later what happened….” 

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Dakar’s hands clench into fists.  “We were always together…did everything together…I turned around for one moment and she was gone…but somehow I _knew_ where she went.  So I went there…and found her being _violated_ by that bastard.  I remember charging him, telling him to leave her alone…calling him a monster.”  His whole body was starting to shake, but whether it was from rage, grief or a mix of both, she couldn’t say.  “He knocked me away, I think I was knocked out or dazed, I never found out for certain…but the next thing I remember was seeing Thysa reaching out for me…before that bastard snapped her neck.” 

This was worse than she expected:  it was one thing to find out someone so close to them was assaulted and killed, but to actually _witness_ it.  Nyla wanted to say something, _anything_ to comfort him, but what could she say to someone that had this happen to them three centuries ago?  For now, she could only be a willing ear. 

“He was going to kill me too,” Dakar continued.  “He couldn’t afford to have any witnesses due to his station…after all.” 

“You knew him?” Nyla asked, finally finding her voice. 

Dakar nodded grimly.  “His name was Fategus Vimuan,” he said.  “I don’t remember his exact rank, but he was a high ranking member of the local police force.” 

“Spirits…,” Nyla breathed.  “That means he would have known how to avoid getting caught…how did you escape?” 

“ _She_ came.”  At this, Dakar’s body posture seemed to relax, a look of awe and bliss on his face.  “My Elder, Miroris.” 

“A vakar?”  She realized it was stupid question, but Dakar answered it anyway. 

“Yes: she was an Elder even back then,” he explained.  “She has been around for a very long time...long enough to have witnessed the Krogan Rebellion first hand. 

_A vakar that has been around for over a thousand years!?_ Nyla thought, her mind having trouble wrapping around it. 

“Anyway…,” Dakar continued. “She killed Fategus, saving my life...though she regretted not getting there in time to save my sister as well.” 

“So she made you a vakar then?” Nyla asked. 

“No, I was too young:  I was only ten at the time,” Dakar said, shaking his head.  “We don’t feed on children, let alone turn them.” 

“Why not?  I can imagine a child vakar would easily get close to a criminal fool.” 

“Because the moment we are fully turned, the aging process stops, both physically _and_ mentally,” Dakar said.  “While they can still _learn_ , most would lack the ability to _comprehend_ and _understand_ what they were doing.  Hell, some _adults_ seem to lack it, which is why we take a lot of time accessing potential candidates before even _thinking_ of considering someone for turning.” 

“That’s a good point…,” Nyla said with a sigh.  “Mental maturity comes to different people at different times:  some never seem to reach it.”  After a pause she asked.  “So, uh…at what age did she turn you then?” 

“Twenty three.” 

“And what year was that?” 

Dakar didn’t speak for a moment has he thought back.  “1875: so about two hundred and ninety eight years ago.” 

“Wow….”  Nyla shook her head, a faint smile on her face.  “So that means your about three hundred and twenty-one…and you still look twenty three:  I need to get in on that health plan.” 

He apparently didn’t get the joke, for he frowned.  “I’m afraid I’m not yet...eligible…to judge whether someone is a good candidate for turning, let alone to turn someone.” 

Nyla quickly shook her head, laughing weakly.  “That statement was made in jest:  I have no interest in becoming a blood sucking vigilante.  Considering my temperament…I’d make a poor one anyway.” 

Dakar chuckled a bit at that.  “I’ll have to trust your word on that one,” he said.  At that point, he developed a reluctant, even conflicted, expression on his face. 

“What is it?”  Nyla asked. 

“Nyla…,” he said after a brief pause.  “I found a way that may help protect you from the rogue, at least temporarily, but...I need you to trust me on this.” 

Nyla tensed, really having preferred to not go down this topic of conversation, to be reminded of the danger she was in.  “A-and want is that?” she asked, hesitantly. 

“I need you to let me bite you.”

 

\--

 

“Fuck no!”  Came the almost immediate response, Nyla physically recoiling and having a look of horror on her face.  “I should have known!  You’ve been trying to butter me up to let you take some of my blood this whole time!  If it wasn’t the threat of this other vakar, I’d throw you out right now!” 

_So much for that approach,_ Dakar thought with a sigh.  He had been hoping that after the recent line of conversation she’d be more receptive to the idea.  Now it looked like he was going to have to build up her trust all over again….and he was running out of time.  

“Nyla,” he said sternly.  “I know you only learned of my kind only a few hours ago and that this is overwhelming for you, but spirits…we don’t have time for this!  I _should_ be asleep right now, but I’m not because I want to take every measure I can to ensure you are protected.  Considering the circumstances you have every right not to trust a word I say, but I am honestly not trying to deceive or otherwise hurt you.” 

“Th-then why do you need to bite me?  And why now?” 

Dakar sighed, having hoped he wouldn’t need to go into that.  “It…it’s a bit like varren’s scent marking:  when a vakar bites someone, but not kill, a vakar that is not from their ‘pack’ is unable to bite that person until the wound is healed.  It’s…like a repellent, of sorts.” 

“S-so…if you bite me…this rogue won’t be able to kill me?” 

“It would only keep him from feeding on you, not straight up killing you,” Dakar clarified.  “I…was able to get some information on him while I was waiting to be released from the hospital: he’s in a bad way, so he’ll be looking to feed on his next target the moment he’s able.” 

“Which would be me, if your…intelligence…is correct.”  When Dakar nodded, she asked.  “But why need to bite me now?  Why not when we wake up later?” 

“Because it may be too late then,” Dakar said grimly.  “I don’t _usually_ wake up until sunset at the earliest…and well…that guy could come crashing through your window at that moment.” 

Nyla visibly twitched and looked at the window in her room.  “Oh why, oh why did I have to _insist_ on a first floor apartment….”  He heard her mutter.  After a long moment, she asked.  “Will it hurt?” 

“The bite?  So long as I am allowed time to properly _prepare_ the area, it should feel like nothing more than a light pinch.” 

“What do you mean by ‘prepare’?” 

“Our saliva has both anesthetic and antibiotic properties.” 

“Huh…convenient…but you don’t bother doing that with the criminal types, right?” 

“Of course not: they don’t deserve such comfort.” 

“Heh, I’d have to agree.”  Another long pause.  “There’s just one more problem…and it’s a big one.” 

“What is it?”   

“I…I’m not sure think I can handle letting you get _that_ close to me….” 

_And there it is,_ he thought with a mental sigh.  Dakar had been having a hard time believing she was opening up to the idea so easily after the initial outburst, so he figured there had to be a catch.  “Why?” he asked, trying not to sound impatient, or frustrated.   

At this, Nyla stood up and rubbed her arms, looking very nervous and out of sorts.  “I…I don’t like not being in control,” she said, her voice getting more frantic as she went.  “Of myself or my surroundings.  If I’m not for any reason…I…I start to freak out.  I…have _some_ control over myself on the environment front, which is why I can handle working in a hospital, but the personal space part…not so much.  Last time I let someone get too close…I had a major freak out and…and….”  She took one shuttering breath before finally saying.  “I killed him….”

 

\--

 

There.  It was out now. Her greatest failure, her greatest sin.  Now she could only wait for judgment.  However the vakar before her didn’t show any sign of disgust, only sympathy and understanding.  Yet, in his eyes, she could see he wanted to know more details, details Nyla certain she couldn’t give without dissolving into an emotional mess. 

“I see,” Dakar said finally, his tone soft and sympathetic.  “It sounds like a regretful accident, and I can understand why you are reluctant for risk of it happening again.” 

Nyla felt relief that he understood her dilemma, but at the same time, the fact he wanted to bite her still remained.  “But it needs to be done, doesn’t it?” she asked. 

“Highly advised, yes.  Not just by me either:  my elder was the one that suggested it.” 

“I see….”  Nyla paused in thought a moment, then asked, hopefully.  “Does it matter where you bite?  I mean…I can probably handle you biting my hand…or something.” 

“With few exceptions, vakar that intend to feed will go for the neck,” Dakar explained.  “It’s quicker…and easier…that way.  For that reason, it would be more _effective_ if I bite you there as well.” 

_Great, wonderful,_ Nyla thought with a resigned sigh.  _The hard way it is._  

“That said,” Dakar continued.  “I don’t want to force you to do anything you are uncomfortable with.  Do you have any suggestions on how we can go about this without causing a…freak out?” 

Nyla took a deep breath and breathed out again slowly as she thought it over, a part of her surprised Dakar was letting her figure out the best means of action to accomplish this.  In fact, she was half expecting him to just say ‘screw it’ and force himself upon her to get the bite done and over with.  Either he was showing a remarkable amount of restraint, or he really _wasn’t_ that kind of person to do such a thing and not just acting like a decent man. 

_There is sex,_ she thought, feeling herself blush a little.  _I **have** had sex partners since the incident, especially if I really want it, but…._   She looked at Dakar, whom was watching her expectantly.  He was handsome and it should be easy enough to get herself in the mood, but were vakar capable of the act?  “Well…we could try sex…,” she finally offered.  “But the question is….” 

“Yes, vakar are fully capable of it,” Dakar replied before she could even ask: a part of her had to wonder if he was expecting such a suggestion.  “Some of my kind actually _use_ that fact to get close to their targets…something I personally don’t approve of.” 

“Thing I guess that’s out the window if you don’t like that kind of thing….” 

“Actually it’s not.” 

“OK, now you are confusing me,” Nyla said giving him a look.  “You just said you don’t approve of such a tactic.” 

“Only if the vakar didn’t tell the sex partner he or she was planning to _bite_ them during the act,” Dakar explained.  “I’ve already told you I need to bite you, so you are forewarned.” 

“Oh….” Nyla breathed a sigh of relief, as she doubted she would be able to think of another solution.  “That’s a relief.” 

“Just…let me know if I’m doing something that is making you uncomfortable, OK?” 

“Deal.” Not wanting to waste any more time, she suddenly reached over and snatched the towel off his waist. 

“Whoa!”  Dakar said, clearly not having been expecting this. 

“You’re lucky you’re a handsome hunk…,” Nyla said as she started to strip off her own clothing.  “Just _looking_ at you shouldn’t take me long to get worked up.”  Indeed, in the brief time she had exposed him, she was already starting to feel it, though she could also feel her hands trembling slightly with anxiety. 

“We-well, you’re not a bad looker yourself,” Dakar said as he made a show of looking over her now naked body himself.  She could have sworn she saw a faint blush on him as well as he laid back on the bed to give her a better view, which she certainly appreciated. 

“I’m surprised you are not out by now,” she teased as she joined him on the bed so she could get some ‘hands on’ sampling,  

“I’m not one of those that think only with their groin,” Dakar said with a chuckle.  “So it may be a bit before I’m ready, especially considering how quickly you acted a moment ago.” 

“Oh, so I am moving too fast for you?”  Nyla said as she traced a talon down one of his thighs.  So far there was no sign of him _physically_ responding her to advances, but if what he just said was true, it was to be expected. 

“Just a bit…,” he said, his eyes briefly closing.  She could have sworn she heard a faint moan as well, just under his breath.  Was he purposely trying to play hard to get? 

“I would have thought that after three hundred years you’d be expecting that kind of thing,” she asked, edging her caresses closer and closer to more _sensitive_ areas. 

“I’ve actually not had sex that often…,” Came the surprising answer, which Nyla had hard time believing. 

“Why not?” she asked, then before letting him answer, asked.  “And how many times _have_ you done it?” 

“I’m a bit picky when it comes to sex partners,” he admitted, flipping onto his side so he was facing her.  Then reached over and brushed the underside of her jaw, his eyes judging her response.  Thankfully, she was relaxed and comfortable enough by now that the physical contact didn’t make her flip.  “And as to your other question…” He leaned forward and said huskily.  “Enough times to not only know what I am doing, but to ensure _both_ sides get full enjoyment out of it.” 

That was music to her ears:  her previous partners were either inexperienced, or only cared about their own pleasure.  “You trying to make me feel special?” she asked coyly as she reached up and stroked his face. 

“Maybe.” Now _he_ was sounding coy. 

“Well it’s working.”  She leaned forward and touched foreheads with him.  From the faint gasp he made, that simple, but intimate, touch, caused a very strong physical reaction in him.  Nyla stole a brief glance _downstairs_ and saw that her assumption was correct…and from the looks of things, he was no wimp in _that_ department either. 

They traded innuendo laced banter a bit more, before moving on to proper foreplay.  It was during that time she noticed that Dakar was paying a fair amount of attention to her neck, which was to be expected, considering what the purpose of this whole thing was for.  It certainly helped that his tongue felt very good and the only thing that distracted her from that was when the deed itself was fully commenced. 

Spirits!  He hadn’t been kidding when he hinted at his abilities in that area.  Other males could certainly learn a thing or two about _quality_ over _quantity_ here.  His knowledge of various positions that helped ensure she still felt she was in control was greatly appreciated as well.  Yet, as far as she could tell, he hadn’t bitten her yet. 

“Dakar…you going to…bite me…,” she panted at one point.  “Or are you enjoying…yourself too much?” 

“Can’t bite and…fuck at the same time….” Came the blunt response.  “Can only focus with…one _head_ …at a time.”  She caught a glimpse of a smirk on his face. 

She wanted to call him a smartass, but at that very moment Dakar increased the frequency of his thrusts, making her gasp and gripe the edge of his cowl.  .  She didn’t want this moment to end, but all good things had to come to an end.  Soon after, they both hit their peak…and she felt the ‘pinch’ of Dakar’s fangs piercing the flesh of her neck….


	6. Chapter 6

Dakar wasn’t sure if the gasp she heard from her was from the climax or his bite, making him wonder if he didn’t numb the area enough beforehand.  Fortunately, she didn’t try to pull away, instead gripping him more tightly.  So he focused on drinking enough blood to satisfy the conditions needed to keep Krido from biting her.   

With that in mind, he was largely ignoring the memories and thoughts that came his way, which were mostly her feelings on his _performance_.  Then, hints of something else got his attention, hints of the memory that bothered Nyla so much.  He fell victim to his own ‘OCD’: the desire for knowledge and to not have any gaps in that knowledge, which in truth, all vakar had in some shape or form.  With that, he opened his mind and mentally dug deeper into the memory flow in Nyla’s blood….

 

\--

 

_2171, Academy of Appartitus, Digeris._

_“Hey, Nyla!”  a familiar, but unwelcome voice called out behind her.  Nyla didn’t need to look back to know who it was._

_“What do you want, Kromus?” Nyla said with a faint growl, not bothering to stop her pace, or look back at him.  Kromus Diomothan was a rather popular man here on campus, both with the teachers and in other aspects.  Unfortunately, he had started to let that popularity get to his head._

_“I was wondering what was up with you,” the man said, catching up to her.  “Seemed like we were starting to get something going, but then you suddenly cut me off.”_

_“That should have been a hint, Kromus,” Nyla snarled.  “That I didn’t want to pursue things any further.”  She had at one time been interested in him, but when she started hearing rumors about his playboy ways and her own gut telling her something was off, she decided to break things off with him.  It seems, however, that he didn’t get the hint._

_“Oooh,” Kromus said, chuckling.  “You’ve been hearing rumors about me then.  About how I like to toy with women’s hearts than leave them shattered and broken.  Really, Nyla…you shouldn’t believe everything you hear.  Those women just ended up not being to my tastes and they are all butthurt over it.”_

_“Not to your ‘tastes’, or that you got what you really wanted from them: a quick romp in the bed?”  Nyla sneered, quickening her pace.  Kromus, however, easily kept up with her.  Dammit, if she could just make it to the medical building…._

_“So you believe I think only with my groin?”  Kromus normally smooth and calm voice now had an edge to it.  “I’m better than that!”_

_“Then prove it by not chasing after every pretty girl you see,” she retorted.  “I’m a turian, like you, with hopes and dreams, and a desire to do my duty for our society.  I am not a piece of property to be fought over and won like some perverted conquest.  So stop acting like a Volus…and start acting like a turian!”_

_That seemed to strike a nerve with him, as he stopped following her.  She didn’t bother looking back at him to see his expression, instead focusing on continuing on getting to her next class.  Perhaps, she should have looked back…._

_While crossing a small bridge that was just before the medical building, she heard someone running up to her.  Before she could react, Kromus had spin her around andgrabbed her by both arms, an angry snarl on his face.  “How dare you!” he growled in her face.  “How dare you compare me to one of those lowly client species!”_

_Nyla wanted to retort that he shouldn’t act like one, but his sudden close proximity was triggering.  When people got into her personal space, especially if it was sudden and unwanted, she starts having a panic attack.  That he had her by both arms was ‘not’ helping matters anyway.  “Kromus…,” she pleaded, panic starting to fill her body.  “L-let go….”_

_“Not until you apologize…and show me the proper respect ‘I’ deserve,” Kromus hissed, pulling hard on her arms and forcing her to be right up next to him.  That just made things even worse and Nyla struggled to keep control over herself.  She’d attacked people before when in full panic mode, and she didn’t want it to happen again.  She was losing the fight, however._

_“Please let go!  Before something happens!” she warned, the panic in her voice evident and her struggles and thrashing became increasingly more desperate and violent._

_“What the hell are you talking about, woman?”  Kromus was now having a hard time keeping hold of her, panic having fully taken hold of her._

_“LET GO!”  With one sudden moment, Nyla pulled one arm free and punched him in the face._

_Kromus, having been caught completely off guard, staggered back, letting her other arm go in the process.  However, he was too close to the edge of the bridge and when his legs hit the low railing, he lost his balance and toppled over, into the ditch below.  The sickening crack of his skull hitting the ground, snapped Nyla out of her panicked state and she looked over the edge in horror at what just happened._

_“Spirits…,” Nyla whimpered, staggering back a couple of paces before falling to her knees.  “What have I done?”  Around her a small crowd was forming, a couple of turians climbing down into the ditch to check on Kromus, however in her gut she knew there was nothing that could be done and an overwhelming guilt filled her._

_“What have I done….”_

 

\--

 

Dakar had to force himself to break away, the emotions in that memory having been never overwhelming for him.  He took a couple of deep breaths to both calm himself and ensure his mind was properly back in the present.  Looking down, he noticed that Nyla’s eyes were closed and for a moment he feared he took more than he intended to.  

He nuzzled her and she moaned softly in response, before opening her eyes.  “Are you alright?” he asked. 

She just smiled and rolled onto her side, pulling him close as she snuggled up against him.  It seems at the moment it had yet to dawn on her what he knew now, but perhaps it was for the best.  Right now, she seemed content and happy, possibly for the first time in a while, and he didn’t want to rob her of that by telling her his thoughts on Kromus’ untimely demise. 

Such incidents, especially if the facts were not clear, oft ended up in the grey area of morality and law enforcement.  Some would have charged her with murder, while others would have recognized it as an unfortunate accident caused by one man’s pride and do nothing.  Context was the key here, along with intent, both of which Krido failed to understand, or chose to ignore due to his own agenda. 

It was not the time to reflect on the grey areas of such things, however, for he was tired.  Tired for more reasons than the time of day now.  With a heavy sigh, wrapped his arms around the now sleeping Nyla and finally allowed himself to fall asleep himself.

 

\--

 

_Later that evening…_

 

Nyla yawned and stretched, having felt like she just got her first good night’s sleep in ages.  That good feeling briefly disappeared though when, during her stretch, her arm brushed against something that shouldn’t be there.  Her heart skipping a beat, she looked over to see a large lump under the covers next to her.  Thankfully, she quickly remembered the events of last night, else she would have shoved the ‘intruder’ out of her bed and started screaming. 

_Did we really have sex last night?_ she thought as she watched Dakar sleep for a moment.  That moment had felt like a dream, but the faint soreness she felt told her it wasn’t a dream at all. 

She looked at the window and saw that there was still plenty of daylight, so she decided to let the vakar sleep a bit longer.  Nyla quietly slipped out of bed, slipped on a robe and headed for the bathroom, where she then inspected the bite wound on her neck.  _Amazing,_ she thought as she carefully ran her fingers over the bite mark.  While there were obvious fang marks, it they looked more he had just lightly bit her rather than the deep penetrating wound she had been expecting.  _Their saliva must have some healing properties as well: it’s not even swollen or anything._  

Healing properties or not, it would be a good idea to wash the area herself.  It was then she noticed that the shower was already on.  _Huh?  Why is the water running?_ she thought.  Nyla’s eyes narrowed with rage when she realized the answer….

 

\--

 

He was having a nice dream, until he found himself rudely awakened when he suddenly got shoved out of bed.  Dakar landed with a thud on the floor with a startled yelp and he looked up at an angry looking Nyla with confused, still half asleep eyes.  “Uh…good morning?” he said, not sure what she was pissed off about. 

“So you know how to turn it on…but not off?” she growled. 

“’Cuse me?” 

“The shower, you nitwit!” she snapped.  “You left it on!  The water has been running all day!  Do you fucking realize how much that is going to cost me with the water bill!?” 

Dakar blinked a couple of times before his still half-asleep mind got what she was talking about.  “Oh!” he said, now fully awake.  “Geez…I…guess when I had my _episode_ I didn’t even think about that...I’m sorry.” 

“Sorry is not going to cut it!  That’s _money_ literally going down the drain!  And I don’t supposed you vakar have any yourselves, do you?” 

“Not…really…,” Dakar replied honestly.  Vakar rarely had a need for money, considering their diet and their habit of staying in places that didn’t exactly charge for rent.  What funds they did have they took as cash off their criminal victims and that usually went toward replacement clothing. 

“Great, just great…just how are you to expect to pay me back for all the water you just wasted.” 

“Speaking of wasting water…,” Dakar said, tilting his head in the direction of the bathroom.  “I think the shower is _still_ on.” 

Nyla blinked, then a look of embarrassment flooded her face as she realized that in her rush to nag him, she forgot to turn off the water herself.  He chuckled as he watched her quickly run out of the room to remedy that.  A moment later, she came back in, one arm wet from turning off the shower, while the other was holding his clothing, which she then threw into his face.  “Here’s your clothing, which you left littered on the floor as well, if I may add,” she grumbled.  “Unfortunately, thanks to you, I’ll have to wait to take my morning shower for a bit.” 

“Why so eager to wash off the evidence of what we did last night?” Dakar asked teasingly as he pulled on his pants. 

Nyla visibly blushed.  “Th-that was just a means to an end…,” she said, her voice stuttering slightly.  “Not meant to mean anything lasting….”  She turned and looked at him, uncertain.  “Right?” 

Dakar lowered his head, a part of him regretting having to confirm her suspicions.  “That is correct.” 

She sighed, though he wasn’t sure if it was due to relief or disappointment.  “I’m going to fix me some breakfast…,” she said softly as she walked out of the room. 

Dakar just nodded at her retreating back and sighed, realizing he had a different problem now.  He liked her, _really_ liked her:  not just for her looks either, but for her fiery, if not unpredictable personality.  It explained why he seemed to lack any kind of restraint in telling her about his kind, practically acting like he was trying to groom her to become a vakar.  That he had sex with her, didn’t help matters any either. 

It wasn’t really a rule, per say, but one of those common sense things that vakar usually knew:  you don’t get attached to a non-vakar.  With their long lives, the pain of watching friends and loved ones that didn’t share that long life grow old and die was painful.  Sure, he could turn her, but there were a few problems with that in on itself. 

First off, she already stated that she wasn’t interested in becoming one of them, which was a key factor in choosing a candidate for turning:  they had to be _willing._   Second, not everyone actually _survived_ the turning process and to make such an attempt only to see her die…he’d never forgive himself.  Finally, and this was a big one even if the first was resolved:  he’d have to find someone else to do the turning, not just because of his rank, but because of the _relationship_ between the turner and turnee, which was akin to a parent and child, respectively.  They would could never be _equals_ , which he already knew would bug Nyla to no end, not to mention he seriously doubted she would allow another vakar to turn her away, due to the level of trust required…and he already knew Nyla didn’t trust easily. 

_Once this is over, I’ll have to cease contact with her,_ he decided.  _For the good both of us._

 

\--

 

_‘Just a means to an end’…are you a moron?_ Nyla mentally scolded herself as she paced in the living room.  _Are you **trying**_ _to screw up any chance you have at a decent man for once!?_  

She sighed and leaned against the wall next to the kitchen door, feeling utterly miserable and disappointed with herself.  Despite all her constant doubts and paranoia, Dakar was really growing on her.  He never once took advantage of her, was honest and most importantly was the first man she met in a long time that actually gave a damn about what _she_ wanted.  He was _perfect_ , and here she was, trying to write it off as a onetime fling. 

_He’s a vakar,_ the logical part of her mind reminded her.  _He’ll outlive you by centuries.  Would it be fair to **him**_ _to watch you grow old and die while he stayed the same?  Pfft…the asari manage it somehow,_ she started to counter herself, but the logic part snapped right back.  _The asari are **born** the way they are, vakar are not!  Besides, there’s no guarantee he is capable of giving you the children you crave._  

Spirits, that was one thing she neglected to ask about:  were vakar still fertile?  _Hell, I didn’t even **think**_ _about using protection!_ Nyla thought, a tinge of horror spiking through her.  Yes, she wanted kids, but not _right now_.  _I better ask him,_ she thought as she started to head back toward the bedroom.  _So I’d know whether or not I need to call up the pharmacy for a morning after._  

Nyla had only gotten halfway across the room when a feeling of dread washed over her.  It was that feeling of being watched again, only this time it was while she was in her own home.  She looked around, logic screaming that she should get back into the bedroom where Dakar still was.  However, she found herself unable to move or speak due to fear, especially once she laid eyes on the source.  Peering through her living room window was a male turian, pale colored with red eyes, red colony markings…and a pair of fangs. 

This man’s eyes and demeanor was nothing like Dakar’s.  Those eyes were filled with not only hunger, but a hatred that typically was only focused toward those of a criminal mind.  She doubted this vakar knew all the details of her past, but he obviously knew enough to believe she was guilty as sin.  _Maybe I deserve to die,_ she thought, trembling where she stood.  _Someone did die by my hands that didn’t deserve it…._  

Then she remembered what Dakar told her:  vakar only go after unremorseful criminals.  People like Rantus and Fategus…they deserved to die, not people like her.  Now when she focused on that vakar’s eyes, she saw only hunger and insanity, an even more dangerous combination.  Briefly, she glanced at her bedroom, really wanting to call out to Dakar, but her voice was still as frozen as her feet.  Looking back, the man was gone, but Nyla felt no relief at this, something in her subconscious knowing what was about to happen. 

Her subconscious would be right, for in the next moment the glass of the window shattered as a tall figure flew through it.   The figure rolled once before ending in a crouch with the gracefulness of a jungle predator.  It was him, the man she saw not a moment before, though now she could see his whole body. 

He certainly had seen better days.  The man’s clothing was ragged, her eyes spying a number of burn and scorch marks.  Hell, his whole right arm looked like it was nearly burned off, as it was covered in worse than third degree burns in her opinion, if burn degrees officially went any higher than three that is.  It was amazing he was even trying to use that arm, to be honest, though it had to hurt like hell.  Any ounce of pity she would have felt for him though was gone when she saw those eyes. 

Those eyes.  They were still hungry.  Still insane.   

And when he lunged at her, Nyla finally found her voice….


	7. Chapter 7

Nyla wasn’t sure if her scream got out fully before the man was on her:  she had never seen anyone move that fast before.  Before she knew it, he had her pinned to the ground and was going for her neck.  Just as his fangs touched her flesh though, he recoiled in shock.  Nyla wasn’t sure if it was the smell of another vakar, or something else, but she was grateful Dakar’s _precaution_ bite worked.  Still, this vakar was clearly not happy by the sudden change in events. 

“Who!?” he demanded, his tone threatening and angry. 

He got his answer when a dark grey form collided into him.  Nyla watched as Dakar and the rogue tumbled across the floor a bit, growls and snarls and the flashing of long fangs as each tried to bite the other.  It eventually dawned on her that she really should get out of the way, so she scrambled toward the kitchen.  Only once she was there did she turn to look to see how the fight was progressing. 

She looked just in time to see Dakar get knocked away, though he rolled back up onto his feet with such grace that she couldn’t help but admire him even more.  A flicker of concern flowed through her when she saw Dakar was wounded:  there was a bite mark on his upper right arm, the wound leaking a small amount of blood.  Dakar though, didn’t seem fazed by it as he and the rogue squared off. 

“Kagnis,” the rogue growled as he finally recognized him.  “Why aren’t you dead?” 

“That…is not important,” Dakar said with a low growl.  “What is important is that I am not going to let you kill another innocent.” 

“ _Innocent_?” the man spat.  “If you were the one that bit her, you would know what she had done!”  He pointed right at her, making her flinch.  “She killed a man in cold blood!  Tossed him off bridge!” 

“But did you even bother _looking_ at the context?  The intent?” 

“It does not fucking matter what the goddamn context is!  She took a life and so she must pay with her life!” 

“If all that matters is whether or not someone took a life,” Nyla suddenly interjected.  “Then you best follow what you preach and take your own damn life!  Otherwise you are a damn hypocrite!” 

The man faltered, her words striking a cord, perhaps calling to the part of him that was still somewhat _sane_.  Nyla wondered why Dakar didn’t take the opportunity to strike, but the look on his face suggested that he was hoping the man would realize the errors of his ways.  Reform was always preferred over death in turian society when came to crime and punishment, and it seemed vakar shared the same view when it came to their own.  However, his hopes would turn out to be for naught, as the man’s face hardened and glared at Dakar with malicious intent. 

“So be it,” he growled.  “Since you robbed me of my meal, Kagnis…I shall make a meal out of _you_!”

 

\--

 

Krido charged him, fangs bared and aiming for his throat.  Dakar, remembering how much damage this guy did to him with even _light_ blows, wasn’t about to let him touch him, let alone bite, if he could help it.  He also remembered how fast Krido was, though his speed was definitely muted a bit due to his condition.  So Dakar knew now when to twist out of the way and not give the crazed vakar a chance to alter his course. 

As Krido passed him, Dakar threw a punch at his lower back with the intent to send him to the floor.  However, Krido was already twisting around to face him again, so at best his punch grazed him.  Krido was too close now, however, so when the rogue vakar lunged for him again, Dakar couldn’t evade.  Instinctively, Dakar brought up an arm, but angled it so that Krido’s fangs hit the thicker carapace side of his arm.  Before Krido could free his fangs from his arm, Dakar punched him in the gut with his free arm. 

Krido staggered back, releasing his arm and Dakar pressed the advantage, hitting him a few more times.  Just as Dakar thought he was off center enough for him to go for the throat himself, Krido suddenly sprung forward, tackling him and sending them both toward the coffee table.  The coffee table broke into several pieces from their weight, causing a shriek of rage from Nyla. 

“Ahh!  You assholes! I got that from my mother!” Nyla screeched.  “Take it outside before you smash anymore of my furniture!” 

_Of all things to be worried about,_ Dakar thought with a grunt as he managed to kick Krido off.  Still, she had a point:  taking the fight outside not only give him more room to maneuver, but there would more suitable shadows he could use to flank his opponent.  Getting Krido to comply though was a problem, as the rogue vakar obviously didn’t care how much personal property he destroyed while trying to kill him. 

For the next few minutes, Dakar tried to position Krido so he could knock or otherwise throw Krido out the living room window.  It was proving difficult, however, due to Krido’s chaotic movements and the fact he was _trying_ not to cause any more damage to Nyla’s home.  His consideration for Nyla’s property ended up nearly being his downfall, for at one point he ended up tripping on something: a bump in the carpet, or perhaps a piece of the broken coffee table.  Regardless of what it was, he lost his balance, and before he could regain it, Krido pounced on him. 

_Fuck!_ Dakar thought, cursing himself as Krido pinned both his arms.  This time there was no shadows for him to use to get out from under him and worse, his legs were not in a good position to try to kick him off.  On top of that, he couldn’t use his shadowfire due to there being so much light in the room:  even if there wasn’t, he would be reluctant to use it for fear of burning more of Nyla’s property. All he could do was tuck in his chin to protect this vulnerable throat, and move his head to block Krido’s attempts to bite the sides of his neck, all while desperately trying to free one his arms, or get proper leverage with a foot. 

_Klang!_  

The weight on him lifted somewhat as Krido suddenly cried out in pain.  Above him, Dakar saw Nyla armed with a frying pan and she was getting ready to swing it again.  At that moment, Krido twisted about, meaning snap at her.  What happened next, made Dakar wince, almost in sympathy for the man. 

When it came to a fight between two vakar, there was a universal unspoken rule, more of a courtesy really:  don’t hit the fangs.  A vakar without his or her fangs cannot feed properly until they grow back, which takes a least a week, provided they get a steady supply of blood.  Without help, or a bit of cleverness such as putting blood in a bowl like Dakar had last night, a fangless vakar ran the risk of starvation.  Plus it hurt like a son of a bitch.   

However, Nyla wasn’t a vakar, so she wasn’t bound by such a rule. 

Nyla’s next swing hit Krido right in the mouth, knocking out one fang and severely damaging the other.  Krido screamed in agony, both hands flying to his face.  Dakar, his arms now free, took the chance to first knock him off himself, then grab him, and finally throw him out of the window. 

“Thanks for the assist,” Dakar called back to Nyla as he prepared to follow him.  “I’d suggest you stay inside:  you don’t want to what happens next.” 

“Seriously?” Nyla protested.  “I want to see that bastard pay for making me ruin my frying pan.” 

Dakar rolled his eyes, but was chuckling as well.  “Trust me, you don’t,” he said as he leaped out the window.  

It was indeed, a good thing she lived on the ground floor, at least in his case.  Still, he rolled as he landed, to help avoid any glass that may have fallen on the outside.  Once back up on his feet, he looked around the alley for Krido. 

The rogue vakar hadn’t gone far and from his whimpering it was obvious he was still reeling from the hit to the fangs.  Knowing he had no better opportunity, Dakar charged, shadowwalking mid-way so that he appeared right in front of him.  Unable to respond in time due to pain and surprise, Krido ended up in the same position he had Dakar in moments before.  Dakar wasted no time going for this throat, sinking his fangs into the soft flesh before Krido got his wits about him. 

Dakar wasn’t hungry, but he drank anyway.  He wanted to know why Krido ended up on this path and how may innocents he had killed.  What he discovered, however, shocked him. 

Krido had a brother whom was killed after breaking into a house while drunk, whether he mistook the house for his own or intended to rob it wasn’t clear.  Regardless, Krido wanted the homeowner who killed him arrested and tried for murder, but the police refused, saying there wasn’t any evidence of criminal intent on the homeowner’s part.  Krido was warned not to take matters into his own hands. 

Furious, Krido stewed in bitterness at the justice system, believing it was wrong for the homeowner to take matters into his own hands.  He felt no one had the right to take another life aside for the police or military.  With that in mind, he tried to join the justice system, but after only a few months he was fired, due to accusations of police brutality. 

It was soon after that, he was approached by a vakar and offered a chance to be given the power needed to do what the justice system would not.  However, that vakar…. 

_Tenisia,_ Dakar thought with a growl.  She had been a rogue vakar herself, one that felt their kind should rule over the turians, saw the whole lot of them as nothing but food.  Tenisia herself had been slain about a hundred years ago, her codename blocked from the memory by every honorable vakar that knew of her.  Such a situation was one of the few times a vakar would willingly _forget_ information.  Between her, the lack of a proper sect, and the fact Krido was unsuitable to become a vakar in the first place, it was no wonder Krido turned out the way he did. 

Dakar pulled away, having seen enough.  Beneath him, Krido was still alive, but too weak now to even move, his eyes showing fear for what was probably the first time in decades.  Dakar himself felt bloated, having drank so much blood:  he wanted nothing more than to curl up in a bed and sleep until the next night.  However, there was still some unfinished business.  One of which he was about to take care of right now.  He stood up and looked down upon Krido, his eyes full of contempt. 

“Krido Musven,” Dakar began, a faint growl in his voice.  “Your lack of ability, or unwillingness, to see the whole context and intent of our target’s actions is what has brought you to this point tonight.  Generations ago, vakar like you caused a rift between us and the turians, nearly driving us to extinction back then.  Your own actions carried the risk of all vakar being hunted down and exterminated by the _hanators_ , because you could not, would not, see why we limit our feeding targets as we do.”  At this, Dakar reached a hand out toward him, his shadowfire flicking to life around his fingers, hungry to burn something.  “For that reason and to avenge the innocent lives you wrongfully taken, you must die, your codename forgotten. I, Dakar Kagnis, subsidiary to Elder Meda Miroris, will execute the judgment now!” 

Krido opened his mouth, likely to protest, but it seemed he was too weak to even do that, that or Dakar’s fangs damaged his voice box.  It didn’t matter anyway, for Dakar’s shadowfire shot out at that moment, enveloping him with its black flames.  Krido soundlessly screamed as the shadowfire ate away at his flesh, writhing in agony with what strength he had left.  It wasn’t long before there was nothing but ash left and Dakar bid the fire to extinguish itself so it did not start to burn things it shouldn’t. 

Dakar sighed with relief:  it was over.  No more will Krido roam the streets, killing those that didn’t deserve it.  He really needed to go back home, to report in and let his elder know that he had succeeded in his task. However there were a couple more loose ends to deal with and both involved Nyla. 

And for one of those, he really didn’t want to break her heart….

 

\--

 

_You don’t want to see it, he says,_ Nyla thought as she paced the room.  _Did he forget where I worked?  I’m quite certain I’ve seen as bad, if not worse than whatever he was going to do to that bastard._    

Yet, despite her thoughts, she couldn’t bring herself to look out the window to see what was going on. Was it out of respect of Dakar’s wishes, or fear of what she’ll see?  She didn’t know and that was driving her nearly as crazy as not knowing what was going on outside.  Granted, by now the sun had fully set, so she likely wouldn’t see much anyway. 

She jumped when she heard something climb back in, clutching her dented frying pan close in case Dakar lost the fight.  Fortunately, it was Dakar that was coming back in and from the looks of his fangs and belly, he had a _very_ good feed.  “Is it over?” she asked, her voice tingling with anticipation. 

“It is over,” Dakar confirmed with a nod.  “No longer will he feed on the innocent, for now he is nothing but ash.” 

Nyla wondered how the heck he was able to start a fire without her, or anyone else, noticing, but she sighed with relief anyway.  “Thank the spirits,” she said softly.  “Are you hurt?” 

“Nothing that won’t heal up fully in a few more minutes.” 

“I see…guess all that’s left is the call the police…if the neighbor’s haven’t already:  not sure how to explain all this though.” 

“Easy:  a man broke into your home, you freaked out and hit him with the frying pan.  He fell onto your coffee table, breaking it, in a mad dash to get away from you.” 

Nyla blinked at him.  “You had to do this before, hadn’t you?” 

“Once or twice….” 

“Uh huh…at least it’s not too far from the truth,” Nyla grumbled.  “I’d feel like a bad turian if I had to flat out _lie_.” 

“That reminds me…,” Dakar said, sounding serious.  “About Kromus….” 

Nyla stiffed at that name, a name she hadn’t wanted to hear ever again.  _How did he…?_ she started to ask herself but then realized the answer: he did bite her and so had to have read her memories.  “What about him?” she asked, meekly. 

At that, Dakar stepped right up to her, and cupped her chin with one hand.  While the move was sudden, it wasn’t entirely _unwanted_ , so the worse she did in response was drop the frying pan.  “Do not blame yourself so heavily for his death,” Dakar said softly, looking into her eyes.  “For at least part, if not most, of the blame lies on him.” 

“But...,” Nyla started to protest but Dakar put a finger from his other hand on her mouth to silence her. 

“What I saw in your memories was a man that risked going down a bad road due to his own pride and selfishness.  I saw a man that was only seeking conquest in the bed and may have resorted to extremes to succeed in that conquest later on.  If he had truly been an honorable, honest, turian, he would have let you go the first time you asked him too.  What happened afterward when he refused to do so, he brought onto himself.” 

“But…even knowing that…,” Nyla said softly, looking down after he removed his finger from her lips.  “Did he really deserve to die?” 

“It doesn’t matter now, for what’s done is done,” Dakar countered.  “You did not face retribution from the justice system for his death and you won’t face it from _true_ vakar either.  Stop letting his death drag you down…and live your own life.” 

Nyla sighed deeply, feeling a weight off her shoulders:  he was right.  In fact, deep inside, she had known what Dakar had said to be true all along but had buried it under denial and regret.  She needed to move on, to leave the specter that was Kromus behind.  At least she didn’t have to look for the right man anymore, since…. 

She blinked, and realized Dakar was gone.  In the brief time she had been reflecting, Dakar had disappeared.  Frantic, she started looking for him, quickly finding him in the bedroom, where he was finally putting his shirt on.  “I prefer you without your shirt on,” she said with a flirty tone. 

“Can’t walk back home without a shirt on,” Dakar said calmly.  “It would be indecent.” 

Nyla’s heart sank.  “Wa-wait…you’re _leaving_!?” 

“I am.”  His expression was unreadable.  “I did what I came here to do and it would be wrong of me to continue to interfere in your life.” 

“You can _interfere_ as much as you want as far as I am concerned!”  Nyla said.  “I want to see you again.…” 

“I’m afraid you won’t,” Dakar said flatly as he walked past her and took his trenchcoat off the coat rack.  “Not very likely anyway.” 

“Why!?  Don’t you care about me!?” 

At this Dakar faltered.  She could see the pain and regret in his eyes, like he really didn’t want to do this to her.  “I do…,” he confessed finally, his voice only barely above a whisper.  “But I know it will not work out in the end.” 

“Why not?” She could already think of several reasons why that could be so, but she wanted to hear _his_ reasons.  Dakar seemed to realize this, as it took him a moment to think of an answer.  What he did say though, was a big one. 

“I won’t be able to give you the children you want so badly, Nyla.” 

_Of course he would get ‘that’ from my mind too…,_ she thought.  If Nyla’s heart could sink any lower it would be in the planet’s core.  “You’re…sterile?”  she asked. 

“All vakar are from the moment we are turned,” Dakar explained, regretfully.  “It is a consequence of being given immortality, a fact all candidates for turning _must_ accept beforehand.” 

Well, that just screwed over any hope she had of getting with him…while preserving her own dreams of having a family.  Sure there was adoption, but that just didn’t _feel_ right in her opinion:  she wanted kids of her own blood.  “I-I see…,” she said softly, sighing with resignation.  “I guess this is really goodbye then.” 

“Nyla….”  Dakar put his hand on the side of her face.  “I’m am certain you will find the right man, one that will give you the respect and love you deserve.  If things were different…perhaps….”  He stopped himself and shook his head. “I better go….” 

“Yes, before I tie you up and keep you for myself,” Nyla said, half out of bitterness, half out of longing. 

Dakar chuckled softly, giving her a sad smile as he went for the door.  She watched as he opened the front door and stepped outside.  Nyla started to follow him, to perhaps say one last goodbye, or to drag him back inside, she wasn’t sure which herself at this point, but he had disappeared into thin air….


	8. Chapter 8

It had been so hard to not look back.  So hard, that he didn’t trust himself not to, so he had forced himself to shadowwalk far enough away so he could no longer her home, let alone her.  Yet the distance apart just seemed to increase the emotions already welling up inside him, causing him to stagger and brace himself against a nearby wall. 

_It’s for the best, it would never work out.  I’m sorry!_ Dakar kept telling himself over and over again.  Yet, no matter how many times he repeated it, it still hurt.  It didn’t drive away the pain. 

He forced himself to take several deep breaths, to calm his racing heart and to help clear his emotion clouded mind so he could focus on what needed to be done.  _I need to go home and report to the elder,_ Dakar thought, pushing himself away from the wall and talking several shaky steps forward.  

A part of him wondered what nearby turians thought of him at that moment.  Most likely they thought he had one too many drinks, which wouldn’t be too far from the truth if one opened his or her mind on what they meant by _drink_.  Still, he had to pull himself together, as he did not want to present himself to Miroris as an emotional wreck.  Though he knew the elder wouldn’t fault him for it, it was a matter of principle. 

Dakar gave himself about a half hour of walking, to give himself time to sort his thoughts and feelings, before shadowwalking the rest of the way home.  Home was an old marble mine that had been carved into the side of a small mountain, abandoned many centuries ago when the veins of good quality marble ran out.  He didn’t know if it was Miroris herself that first claimed it, but what mattered was that it had long since been converted into a sanctuary for his sect. 

The first couple hundred yards were kept unlit, Dakar having to rely on memory and what little moon and starlight shone inside to guide his way.  It was a safety precaution, for too often badly set up sanctuaries ended up being invaded by curious turians, criminal elements that wanted to make the place a hideout of their own, or worse.  The best defense against such intrusions was to not draw unneeded attention and having the place lit up like an all-night party was happening was not the way to do it.   

Dakar took a couple of turns in the large machine cut corridors before he finally reached the first sign of habitation:  a small lit oil lamp hanging on the wall.  The wall itself, was unnatural, made of drywall and wood but carefully made to match the surrounding natural rock face.  It was the same with the door built into it, which would only be noticed by the very observant. 

He reached over and knocked a couple of times before pushing the door open.  Inside the place was much better lit and the signs of habitation were much more obvious.  Alcoves that were not made by the mining operations, but carved out by the vakar themselves, lined the mine walls:  some served as storage, while the other, larger ones served as bedrooms for the vakar that stayed here.  Not so long ago, almost every bedroom had a vakar assigned to it, now, only roughly a third of the space was taken up. 

At the moment, he only saw a couple other vakar, both much younger than him.  “Dakar,” one of them, a tier one, said when the noticed him.  “Thank the spirits you’re alright.  When you didn’t return last night…” 

“We started to fear the worse,” the other, female and only recently achieved tier two, but had yet to figure out a codename.  “The Elder told us that you were fine and would be delayed, though she didn’t say why.” 

It was a bit of a surprise that Miroris didn’t tell the others what was really going on:  she wasn’t the type to keep people out of the loop on such matters.  He found himself more curious than upset, however.  “I appreciate your concern,” he told him calmly, being careful not to hint at the emotional turmoil he was currently in.  “Is the Elder in?  It is essential I speak to her.” 

“As far as we know, she has yet to leave.  Though I did notice she’s been in front of her mirror since sunset.” 

“I think I know why…,” Dakar muttered with a sigh:  with her abilities, she was likely watching him whenever he could.  He thanked them before walking past them, only stopping again when he was before the doorway to the largest chamber in the area:  Miroris’ personal quarters.  It had a curtain door, but at present the curtain was open, so he could see the elder inside, looking thoughtful a she gazed into the large, full length mirror she kept.  Dakar went to one hand and knee and announced his presence.  “Elder Miroris, I have returned with news.” 

“Come on in, Dakar,” the elder said.  “Please close the curtain behind you.” 

Dakar rose to his feet and did as he was bid before approaching her, feeling a spike of anxiety.  It never failed:  every time he walked into this room, he felt nervous.  This was the very room he was turned, nearly three hundred years ago, where the process of turning nearly killed him.  It was only due to Miroris’ diligence that he survived.  But that was the distant past, he had to focus on the more recent past and the present. 

“What word do you bring me, Dakar Kagnis?”  Meda asked. 

“Elder,” he said, keeping his voice even.  “I succeeded in my task:  not only is Krido dead, but Nyla is safe.”  Dakar had realized his slip too late and from the tilt in Meda’s head, she had caught it. 

“That is good to hear, Dakar,” she said.  “But why do you seem so troubled still?” 

“I….”  The words got caught in his throat as the regret he felt returned.  He cast his eyes to the floor, shame on his face that he had allowed himself to break like this in front of her. 

The Elder’s gentle hands cupped his face and bid him to look at her.  “Let me see,” she said. 

Any other time, he would have quickly stripped down so she could bite him.  However, this time he hesitated, though he did not know why.  Was it fear?  Fear of jealousy or contempt?  He knew he could not disobey, however, so he pulled off his shirt, exposing his neck to her: Meda didn’t hesitate at all on her end. 

He wasn’t sure what to focus on, so he just thought about what happened since Meda last bit him.  The conversations he had with Nyla, his growing feelings for her, the sex…the fight with Krido and what he learned from Krido before executing him…and lastly, how he had to break Nyla’s heart, his own breaking along with it.  He had to choke back a sob as he recalled the last part. 

“I understand,” Meda said after she released him, only to pull him close and comfort him with an embrace.  “You became fond of her and yet you knew not to let your heart cloud your better judgment” 

“It still hurts though…,” Dakar said softly, relishing the motherly embrace he was in.  “The pain makes me question if I did the right thing or not.” 

“Such a relationship between a turian and vakar rarely ends well, for a number of reasons…reasons you already devised yourself.  You ultimately did the right thing…and with time, the pain will pass for both of you.” 

“Understood, Elder.”  After a pause he asked.  “Elder…is it possible for a vakar to fall in love with another vakar?”  He asked partly out of curiosity, partly out of a need to find a more suitable person to fill the hole in his heart. 

“Hmm?”  She looked genuinely surprised by the question.  “I’m sorry to say, that I’ve never seen it happen within a sect itself, only between rival ones.  Even then, such a thing is rare, due to how territorial we are.” 

“I see….” 

“I don’t mean to dishearten you, Dakar,” Meda said.  “Just trying to be realistic with your chances.  Unlike normal turians, however, we have the advantage of _time_ :  so be patient, young Dakar, and perhaps, spirits willing, you will find someone that will complete your heart.” 

Dakar nodded, willing to accept that much.  The chances sounded slim, but at least it sounded like he had a chance.  “Thank you for your council, Elder,” he said, pulling away.  “Is there anything else you require of me?”  Right now, the weight of all that blood in his stomach was really starting to feel uncomfortable and he needed to lay down so he could properly digest it. 

“There is one more thing,” Meda said, her tone turning more serious.  “I know you already suspected, so I shall confirm it:  Krido was test.” 

Dakar took a step back in shock.  He had wondered why Meda didn’t go after Krido herself while he was in the hospital, as it would have been her right to, but he didn’t think to ask her why at the time.  “A test?” he asked.  “Why?” 

“You know our sect was weakened greatly when Mizarcus left with most of our sect,” she explained.  “Leaving you as the second oldest, but without the authority of master or lord.  If Krido had given in to his urges after you hurt him so, I would have used my right to hunt him down and kill him myself as elder of our sect.  Since he didn’t, however, I saw an opportunity to test you, to see how much you have learned and how far you were willing to go to accomplish your goal.” 

He found himself swallowing hard, though that was difficult due to his mouth being suddenly dry.  Did he do enough?  Or too much?  Did he cross to many lines?  What if, though he succeeded into the task itself, he had failed on the morality front by getting so _intimately_ involved with Nyla? 

“I can see the fear in your eyes,” Meda said, her tone slightly teasing.  “Do not fear:  while you did not pass with exactly _flying_ colors, you passed none the less.  You let your heart control your mouth at times, told someone more than they should know about our kind, but those are minor things compared to the fact that you were willing to put aside those feelings to do what was right.  You never wavered from your ultimate goal, despite those short comings and slip ups and you recognized the mistakes you made on top of that.  For that reason, I am considering you a Master among our ranks from this moment on.” 

Dakar gasped, unsure if his heart could take any more of this emotional rollercoaster it was on.  Despite the honor he felt at being promoted, he felt like he didn’t really deserve it.  “Are you sure this is wise, Elder?” he asked.  “With the foolish mistakes I’ve made, I feel I still have a lot to learn before I am worthy of the title Master.” 

“It is for that very reason you _are_ worthy, Dakar,” Meda said softly.  “By realizing you are still capable of making mistakes, you are less likely to allow pride and arrogance fill your head.  Mizarcus, while he had good intentions, let such pride and arrogance get to him, leading to the split and later, the near destruction of his sect.  Learn from his example and your own mistakes and history will not repeat.” 

“I understand,” Dakar said, nodding in acceptance.  “What became of him, if you do not mind me asking?” 

“He is still struggling with his sect:  last I checked on him, he had lost a couple more members, whether it was due to death or otherwise I do not know,” Meda replied, a hint of sorrow in her voice.  “I had offered for him to return, to give him a chance to find himself again, but thus far, he has refused.” 

“I see.” 

“Leadership is hard, no matter who you are,” she said.  “It is a great burden to bare and not everyone makes it as one.  But even great leaders cannot shoulder all the responsibility alone.  That is why, I have high hopes for you, Dakar, that you can assist me in leading our sect into a bright future.” 

Dakar took a deep breath and sighed slowly, feeling the weight of the additional responsibility already.  Thankfully, they didn’t have any vakar anymore that were bullheaded like it was when Mizarcus was still part of this sect.  Looking up at his elder, Dakar saw her smile, a smile that always gave him a sense of hope.  She had a lot of confidence in him and Dakar didn’t want to let her down, despite all that he was going through right now.  With that in mind, he dropped to one hand and knee before his elder once more. 

“I, Dakar Kagnis, swear to you, Elder Meda Miroris, to do my duty to the best of my ability,” he said, meaning every word.  “To uphold our laws and traditions, and ensure those below me do the same.  Should I weaver, should I fall from the path, I will accept any punishment you deem fit graciously and without complaint.  Thus I swear my loyalty to you, if you would have it.” 

“I accept, _Master_ Dakar Kagnis,” Meda said, bidding him to rise to his feet.  “I have faith you will do as you vow.”  She added with another smile.  “Go now, for it appears we have a small crowd forming outside.  Best go show them who their new master is, hmm?” 

“Ech…youngsters…when will they learn not to eavesdrop?”  Dakar grumbled, Meda laughing at his comment. 

He stepped outside and was immediately swarmed by four other vakar, one of them Thyler:  Dakar could tell he just came back from a hunt.  All of them were congratulating him on his promotion, the older ones sounding genuinely relieved they had a master among their ranks again. 

_This is my family,_ Dakar thought as he thanked them.  _My duty is to them, first and foremost._   His thoughts briefly went to Nyla, wondering how lonely she felt right now.  The guilt he felt for having to break her heart was still there, but he knew that it was ultimately for the best.  _I am sorry, Nyla,_ _for the pain I caused you.  I know it would be of little confront, but I will never forget you, that much I can promise._  

He would keep his word, even though Nyla would never learn of it.

 

\--

 

_Couple of nights later._

 

Nyla rapped the tip of the stylus on the table, bored and depressed.  She was supposed to be going through their inventory and noting down items they were getting low on, but her mind kept drifting to the events of a couple of nights ago.  To Dakar. 

It burned and hurt that he had rejected her, despite the logical reasons on why it wouldn’t work.  Reasons they _both_ agreed on.  So why did it still hurt so much?  Why did he keep showing up in her thoughts? 

With a sigh, she reached into her pocket and pulled out the fang.  She found it while cleaning the living room after the police did their rounds and took her report on the incident.  They had done a check of the alley outside her living room window, but only found a curious amount of dirt and ash there:  at least now she knew what Dakar meant when he said the rogue was nothing but ash, though how he did it in such a short time still eluded her.  Whatever he did, he ensured there was nothing left of the man to identify him. 

Well, save for this fang, which Nyla wasn’t sure was an oversight or not.  A part of her hoped it was on purpose, to leave a small piece of what happened behind so she would remember him.  Granted, a part of her was also afraid of the thing, considering the former owner of it wanted to kill her.  The size of it was a bit intimidating as well:  to think fangs like this were buried in her neck at one point, though with the care and consideration Dakar showed her, she never realized it at the time. 

“Hey, Nyla!” She heard Hilasia call out.  “We need all hands on deck!” 

That sounded bad.  Putting the fang and stylus away, she quickly headed out to the ER floor, where the previously quiet lobby was starting to bustle with activity with both nurses and doctors alike preparing for something big.  “What’s going on?” she asked as she scrubbed. 

“Big bar fight between the 7th and 23rd legions,” Hilasia responded.  “Real nasty one this time.” 

“The 7th and 23rd?” Nyla said, a bit surprised.  “Spirits, I thought their respective commanders agreed to keep them apart due to the bad blood between them?” 

“Some things can’t be helped,” Hilasia said with a sigh.  “Apparently, the 23rd’s transport broke down while in route back to Taertus, so they got stuck here for a few days.  You can probably guess what happened next.” 

“Some one from each group spotted the other…insults started flying…they called their buddies…chaos ensues…,” Nyla said with a sigh.  “I hope the EMTs were smart enough to not take both sides to the same hospital.” 

Unfortunately, that turned to be not the case.  Moments later, the first wave came in and while the paramedics were smart enough not to put them in the same vehicle, they didn’t extend that idea to the hospital side of things.  Cries of ‘Taertus lowlife’, ‘Digeris trash’ and other more _colorful_ insults were being heard before they even came into the lobby. 

_Spirits!  They could be on death’s door and they care more about fighting each other,_ Nyla thought with a groan.  She watched as four turians were wheeled in, two from the 7 th, two from the 23rd, all privates and all hissing, cursing and trying to get at each other.  “Seriously, you had to bring _both_ sides here?” Nyla scolded the paramedics. 

“S-sorry nurse…,” one of them said.  “We thought the other guys were taking theirs to the hospital down the street.” 

“And we thought you were doing the same,” a paramedic from the other vehicle said, looking just as embarrassed. 

“Spirits… you shouldn’t assume things like this!” Nyla grumbled.  “And as for you guys….” She glared at the four wounded turians before her.  “What is this, kindergarten class!?  You lot are acting like a bunch of spoiled four year olds!  You are insulting the honor of _both_ your banners with this childishness!  Grow up, all of you, before I put you all into time out!” 

The four of them looked at her, shock and shame on their faces.  They were mercifully quiet as Nyla and the other nurses triaged them and prepared for the next wave.  There three waves, one after the other and with each group Nyla had to give a similar little _speech_ to, especially to the officers that showed up later on.  After that, when it seemed like that would be the last of them, so Nyla was set to go back to what she was doing before: inventory.   

That’s when she noticed him, a lone soldier sitting in the lobby, looking like he had been there for a while.  His uniform marked him as part of the 7rd, but he had the face markings of a Taertus colonist. _How did that happen?_ she wondered as approached him.  As she got closer, she picked out more details. 

He had fairly dark skin and the carapace on his face was duo-tone: tan blending into a brown color.  The insignia on his collar was that of a captain and he was just sitting there quietly, looking like he was asleep, which was worrisome by itself.  More worrisome was the fact that no one seemed to have noticed him coming in: it’s possible he walked in on his own, amidst the chaos of the last hour or so. 

“Excuse me, sir,” she said, shaking him gently.  “Has anyone seen you yet?” 

The man grunted and opened his eyes to regard her for a moment before shaking his head.  He had light blue eyes, which his white Taertus markings complimented nicely. Those same eyes also told her he was in a lot of pain and discomfort.  “G-got hit in the side,” he said weakly.  “N-not sure by fist or something else…either way, it hurts like hell.” 

She checked his side and her hand came away blue.  Quickly she checked his gums and eye lids: they were both dangerously pale.  “Hilasia!” she called out.  “We have a critical here!  Severe blood loss!” 

“Who…?”  Hilasia started to ask but then she saw him.  “Spirits…when did he come in?” 

As Hilasia scrambled the needed equipment, Nyla stayed with the man. “Stay with me, sir,” she said, noticing he was starting to drift off.  “You need to stay awake.” 

“Feelin’ so tired…and a bit cold…,” the man said softly.  That wasn’t good. 

“Focus on me,” Nyla insisted, grabbed his head and forced him to look at her.  “Focus on my voice, you _must_ stay awake!” 

“Heh….” the man smiled.  “I don’t want to die…but if I do…at least I die looking at something pretty….” 

Nyla blushed a bit, but kept her wits about her.  “What’s your name sir?” 

“Mmmm…you tell me yours first, sweetie.” 

_Unbelievable…he’s dying yet he’s trying to flirt with me,_ Nyla thought with a mental shake of her head.  _Still, if it keeps him talking and awake._ “Nyla Traten,” she replied. 

“Nyla…I like that name,” the man said, still smiling. 

By then Hilasia had arrived with a gurney and IV supplies, including lifesaving blood. They got him onto the bed and hooked up the IVs, getting blood back into his body: already his color was getting better.  “I still need a name, sir, for your chart.” 

“Ah…how rude of me,” the man said with a chuckle.  Still, he held her gaze for a long time, like he was looking at an angel, before he answered.  “Panus Hironus.” 

After noting that down, Nyla helped prep the man for surgery, not realizing at the time that she just saved the life of her future husband….


	9. Epilogue

_2198, Viane Cemetery, Digeris_

 

Dakar watched the funeral progression from a distance, wishing he could be among the mourners, but felt he would draw too many questions.  The funeral was for Nyla, whom was killed in a hit and run: he was there to pay his respects to her.  He had been dealing with his own issues at the time of the incident, but he felt guilt for not being able to do anything to prevent it.  While he was relieved that she apparently died instantly, he still felt her life was cut too short. 

He watched as Nyla’s husband, Panus, delivered the eulogy, sharing in his pain and sorrow.  _Oh the irony,_ Dakar thought, recalling when he learned that Nyla was unable to conceive children of her own, a fact that must have been devastating for her.  He had wondered if he was to blame, if somehow having sex with her robbed her of that ability.  It would be a question he would never find an answer to, for the one person he knew that may have known it had been taken from him long before. 

Silently, he cursed the Reapers:  because of them, he lost his sect.  All members of his sect were either killed, or had to be put down due to growing insanity from the effects of indoctrination, his own Elder among the latter.  He crushed his eyes closed at the memory, remembering how, in her last moments of sanity, pleaded with him to take her life.  Dakar had obeyed, taking what untainted knowledge he could from her in her dying moments.  Her knowledge, however, did little to prepare him for the war that had been upon them. 

Vakar didn’t like getting involved in non-turian affairs, but in this case, they were forced to, for the Reapers would have consumed everyone, turian, vakar, or otherwise.  Still, some sects he heard refused to get involved in the war and it ultimately cost them their lives.  Other sects that did join in the war had trouble getting finding suitable targets to feed upon.  They couldn’t reliably feed on their usual source, as all turians had banded together to fight a common foe and it just seemed wrong to even lightly feed on a fighting soldier when said soldier needed all the strength they had themselves.  Krogans and other species that were there to help couldn’t be fed upon either due to their levo blood:  the synthetic monstrosities the Reapers sent in droves naturally could not be fed on at all. 

Dakar wondered how many vakar had lost their lives during the war, either though battle or starvation.  By the time the war was over, as miraculous as it seemed, he feared he was the only vakar left on Digeris…if not the galaxy, as every vakar he met turning the war perished.  Vakar needed the presence of another vakar every once in a while to keep themselves sane.  He remembered how deep into depression he had gone into, his sanity slipping away bit by bit, falling into fits of despair at every empty sanctuary he came across…. 

“Stop.” 

Dakar startled, his mind suddenly back into the present.  He looked over at the speaker, Nythia Sutolus, his partner…his soulmate.  Her pale skin and dark blue eyes were as much in contrast with each other as his silver eyes and dark skin, silver colored colony markings complimenting his gold ones.  Looking at her made his heart flutter and he couldn’t bear the thought of being without her, though he could have sworn he had asked her to stay home.  “Why are you here?” he asked as they nuzzled briefly.  “This would mean nothing to you.” 

“Because I know that even after over a decade, you are still recovering from your brush with insanity,” Nythia countered.  “If I hadn’t snapped you out of it just now, you would have sat here brooding until dark, at the very least.” 

“I suppose you are going to tell me how coming here was a bad idea,” he said with a sigh. 

“No,” she said surprisingly, sitting beside him.  “I know she meant a lot to you, Dakar.  You needed closure here as much as her husband does.” 

“Humph,” Dakar snorted.  “What little closure there is:  the one responsible for her death is still missing.” 

He heard Nythia snarl, but he knew the snarl wasn’t at his comment, but the frustration in dealing with this case.  Nythia worked directly with the local police as a detective, perhaps one of the first vakar in centuries to do so.  How quickly this case went cold bugged her as much, if not even more so, than her non-vakar co-workers.  While the hierarchy system here on Digeris was more intact than other colony worlds, or so they heard, there was still a spike in crime.  The police, short-handed due to the war and its aftermath, were willing to accept any help they could get, even if the person was a walking mythological creature. 

She was the one that found him, in fact, clinging to the last dredges of his sanity while eking out living in a brothel of all things.  With her help, he started to get his life and sanity back together again: recently started working alongside her in the police force.  Someday soon, he hoped to start a proper sect with her, for they had already bounded with each other fully. 

“We will get the irresponsible bastard,” she said.  “It’s only a matter of time.  By the way….” Her tone changed to one of curiosity and concern.  “Didn’t they have a son?” 

“Adopted one, yes,” Dakar confirmed. 

“Funny, I don’t see him down there.” 

Dakar looked carefully and indeed, he didn’t see Mylos anywhere.  “Strange,” he said.  “You’d think he would show up for this.” 

Nythia activated her omni-tool and started going through some files.  “Ah…that may be why,” she said.  “According to this, there was some accident on Menae, where he is stationed.  The whole moon is probably on lock down while they investigate it.” 

“Yeah, with something like that they probably won’t make any exceptions on leave,” Dakar muttered.  “Kid must feel horrible not being able to come….” 

His mate simply nodded in agreement and the pair watched the rest of the funeral in silence.  When Nyla was finally put to rest, the crowd started to disperse, many giving Panus a final moment of sympathy and well wishes before heading off.  “Looks like it’s over,” Nythia said.  “Best head home now:  we’ve cut too much into our sleep time as is.” 

“Don’t you mean _snuggle_ time?”  Dakar said coyly, which earned him a slap on the head. 

“Excuse me.”  Both vakar jumped in shock at the sudden voice, they turned to see Panus Hiroten himself standing there, looking tired, but curious.  “I couldn’t help but notice you two standing here during the funeral.  Did you know my wife, or were you just watching for the sake of it?” 

“I knew her,” Dakar confessed, feeling no harm in admitting it.  “My mate here, she came to keep me out of trouble.”  Beside him, Nythia nodded in confirmation.  “I would have been down there with you, but I would have felt too awkward....” 

“How did you know her?”  Panus looked genuinely curious. 

Dakar sighed, not sure how to put it.  “We met in the ER,” he began.  “She helped me recover from a rather nasty scuffle.  In return, I protected her from a madman that wanted to kill her.” 

“I see.  You must be Dakar then.”  Dakar recoiled in surprise.  Beside him, he saw Nythia tense up, looking like she was getting ready to protect him.  Seeing their reactions, Panus quickly explained.  “She told me about you, how you saved her life from another of your kind, but had to break her heart in the process.” 

Dakar winced, turning his head away, only to look back to see Panus now holding something in his hand.  It was a necklace of sorts, with some kind of tooth as its pendent.  It took a moment for Dakar to realize what is.  _Spirits!  That’s Krido’s fang!_   he thought, jumping to his feet.  “She kept that thing, all this time?” he asked. 

Panus nodded, flipping the fang between his fingers a moment before continuing.  “I didn’t really believe in myths and legends when I met her, so when I asked her about this she really didn’t want to tell me,” he said softly.  “When she finally did, I naturally didn’t want to believe her, even with the evidence staring at me right in the face.  But she was an honest, good turian, why would she lie about such a thing?  Still, I had my doubts…until now.” 

“Heh, a fang is one thing, but seeing a living, breathing vakar right in front of you is a bit harder to deny,” Nythia said with a chuckle, folding her arms. 

“Indeed,” Panus said with a chuckle.  “And seeing you in front of me now…I can’t help feel a debt of gratitude toward you as well.” 

Now that was a curious statement.  “Why is that?” Dakar asked. 

“If you hadn’t saved Nyla, I would have died waiting for help at the ER where she worked two days later,” Panus said.  “By saving her life, you saved mine…and brought us together in the process.” 

He couldn’t help it: he laughed.  “Oh how things turn out…,” he said.  “Things like this make you wonder if spirits really due interfere with our lives.” 

“It certainly does,” Panus agreed, chuckling himself. 

They spoke a bit more, Dakar learning that Panus saved many lives during the Reaper War, and saved his now adopted son’s life shortly after the war’s end.  After they parted ways, Dakar reflected once more on that time in his life and the lines of grey he toyed with, and even blatantly crossed.  Yet, despite the pain caused on both sides, it ultimately turned out for the best as he had hoped. 

It seems that sometimes, a lot of grey lines had to be crossed to achieve the greater good.


End file.
